For the lonely hour--Sam Smith inspired.

Take my hand.

Hold it.

Feel the warmth reaching into your soul from mine.

Look into my eyes.

See beyond the brown.

Smile.

See the tears forming at the crease.

See the pain hiding behind the lashes and liner.

See it.

Feel it.

Let me take your hand for a second.

Feel the thump.

The rhythm.

Feel it.

Breathless.

My racing heartbeat leaves drops of sugar behind.

Drops for you to find after I leave.

To remind you, to keep you, to love you.

Bittersweet, I know.

Oh, how I know

12/3/2014 10:36 AM JAB

Comments

It Was Good For Me That I Was Afflicted

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Bland

After the earthquake, I smile. I might fall a little or maybe a lot but I get up. I get up because I realize that there is nothing down there for me to do. Down was not home; it was uncomfortable. Poco a poco with a spoon for a shovel and faith so big, Mount Everest trembles, I crawl out. Residue lingers but making the best of the moment is what counts. That's all that matters. When dry runs and inconvenient pit falls run amok. The moment counts. All the moments count.

Walk signal

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heart to heart

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