BY JEN SCHWARTZ
I’ve mentally written upon a thousand envelopes
all destined for your heart.
The air, cold and clean as I locked in these moments,
begging for their speed to slow down.
We exist independent of pressure.
I am grateful.
Your presence, a shelter for my cat’s cradle of emotions.
Your words hang, crisp and novel, aiding in the generation of a story that I would one day name as my own.
With no ceiling to hold us in, we could fly, you and I.
We could become unlike anything they’ve ever seen.
They’ll stare, in sheer awe as we blaze across the sky, or gaze in wonder as our colors burst forth.
I wish to collapse upon the pillowcases with you, our lungs full up with joy.
This presence, this experience, this transcendence.
I wish to dance with you.
To be childlike in this world that seems to so wish to rush us into being anything but.
So, let us jump in puddles
With a shout of our troubles
And watch with laughter
As the ripples carry them away.
Let’s light up a campfire
Of the soul variety
a songbook to which only we know the words.
Let’s you be you, and I be I.
Though you’ve yet to appear, I’ve seen traces of you.
Glimpses, like raindrops, bursting with the splatter of hope.
Rain is often misunderstood, so if you’re like the rain, I will wait patiently, for that hope to travel inward, that your awareness of your own beauty, would be heightened.
My envelopes are limitless, love.
I just need your address.
For more self-study, The Urban Howl recommends The Inner Voice of Love: A Journey Through Anguish to Freedom.
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