I recall, as a young one, learning the alphabet. How those foreign, almost alien markings, indiscernible, grew more and more familiar, like the name of someone you love.
The moment words found me, they took hold, deep into my bones, and settled like dust in my lungs until I felt them every time I drew breath. I would place them side by side to make bizarre patterns, in a wild assortment of verses.
I remember, too, learning your name, the peculiar jumble of letters that danced upon my tongue, that leapt from my starving mouth. Those three syllables that anchored deep into my soul, like poetry. I remember how I uttered them softly against your crimson lips.
There was once a time where you were only a dream, a feeling. Really, an idea that I couldn’t quite rationalize, built on the near blind faith that you simply must exist (otherwise, what was the point of it all?). Meanwhile, the years would lurk on past.
Until the day I met you and like the misty image coalescing on a Polaroid, there it was, a crystal clear answer to the question of, “just what the hell am I looking for?”
And it brought to my mind all of the times I felt you in my dreams before I awoke to the same familiar sadness–not knowing who you were and how I would even begin to look for you. Now here you are and it all makes perfect sense.
They say that when you become familiar with a new language, you begin to speak it amidst your dreams. In some ephemeral way, I think I have always known you.
I’ve stayed up late, talking to the moon. He tells me about the sun, and I tell him about you. He asked me once, if I had ever danced with the devil in his pale moonlight. I laughed, and answered no, but I have danced with an angel in the glow of her living room. The moon asked me to love like he loves; not stealing the night, but unveiling the beauty of the dark.
It was really all I wanted for the longest time–to simply open my eyes and see you there. To stretch out my hand and touch the soft, yielding warmth of your freckle-kissed skin. To be next to you at 4:30 a.m. To have you wake up in my arms as I whisper “Shh, go back to sleep,” and to kiss your soft, moon-touched lips, and hold you tighter, keeping you safe and warm. And as you drift gently back to sleep, I close my eyes and smile quietly to myself because you are all I could ever want and need. But now I have learned the secret of distance. Now I know that being close to you was never about proximity.
So please, if this is my heartache, then please, allow it to be mine to endure. Permit me, just this once, to feel it in its entirety. Please don’t tell me how much of you I am conceded to love.
One night, won’t you meet me, on the edge of forever? Where your darkness melds with mine, and all of the missing pieces of our being will find each other once again. For you are my words, and I, your orator.
It’s pathetic, really, how much I still hope it’s you and I in the end.