There is a lot of things to mention but I will keep it short. For you and I both know we love the details but like to focus in on the things that ring truth for us both. I am dreaming of you often in way that is different than before. I know you are on the way and you are getting bigger each day and you are the thing that is ours and no one else can take you away from us. This is something I really like. I can hear the echos of times gone by and know I'm different this time. I will no longer let you down as I have in so many ways in the past. Your name is special and I write it everywhere just in case everyone else missed what I see in you. The memory remains always
The rocks are falling down repeatedly onto my skin. I am still it is as though nothing can move me. The way you used to see me has disappeared but I know it is still there. That smile is peaking through the cracks in the door. They are hiding in that little cupboard we both love, the one we used to hide in when we were kids. I am running through the streets and know you are always on the next one like in a dream. Aching I find my way outside your door but never knock. I know you are there checking in on me when no one is looking. Not the way it appears but in another world separate form this where we both exist. Secrets are being kept and wondering why we never made it in the end. But the end has never happened so one day I will be on my way to you in the way you like. Time stops still and we know it is better this way.
The mirror reflects a tiny window into the abyss. I can see many things and nothing it at all. There is a light in the distance. Revealing the truth of yesterday. The truth never stops being heard. Unless you choose to turn your face the other way. I know you can handle this. Stop the madness and settle in. My bones are telling me all I need to know and you are there covered from head to toe. Hiding out waiting to be found. My heart is happy and my head is messy. The bottles peak out around the corner and lead me to you. Until next time my hands are waiting and I am free. Holding it loosely so you feel it too.
There are hidden feelings underneath, trying to poke through the surface. If I am still enough, I hear you. A whisper can be heard in all the places we have ever been. Where we are standing is how we are now. Your footprints leaves muddy marks all over the place whilst I tread softly in a way not to disturb the peace. I've learnt the hard way in which this be true. Did you know your prints are only yours to keep and no one can replicate them. In a way that's the hardest thing for us to discover these things can never be erased but will leave a stain of the memory always. I smile knowing this to be both a good and bad thing. Things are never as bad as they seem in a moment your eyes look my way again and that cheeky grin appears on your face, I blink and you are gone again. The taps are dripping but the bath is empty some one left the plug out and now its broken. The chain remains but the plug left this place days ago. I'm counting in case this becomes something that will matter in the long run. 100 is a number that I like. I can hold my breath and count and I let it all go into the wilderness as we open the door to our camper van and run into the water in the way we always knew would happen. Our home is waiting for us on the side of the road and its ours to keep for all the years where time treats us well. And I will hold you in all the other times.
I'm standing on the edge and you are on the other side. It is unclear if you are waiting for me or not. But what is becoming more and more apparent is that we are spending our lives looking for things in the wrong places. You left the party a long time ago and all that remains is the crumpled photo I have kept in my pocket I use least often in a way to keep you at a distant to stop my heart from breaking. I'm good at keeping a distance even if it hurts me secretly to do so. Making a big song and dance has never been the way I do things, if it is right it will come back like that bird who comes and visits daily to sing to me in our garden. The sounds just can not reach others in this way. Its different with us, I can't put my finger on the exact point of what it is, its a feeling that is out there in the air and will never fade. Its simple. We are on the edge of other peoples lives. And your name is painted in big letters all over the places I find myself in. I hope the noise will reach you one day.
You were gone in the blink of an eye. The bed is messy and empty without you but filled with all our secrets. The mess is everywhere. The remains of everything you left behind are covering the carpet like scars across my face. That hole is still there. Right in the middle. That floorboard, yes you know the one I mean is poking up through like it knows the truth. I hate the look on its face its almost smirking if not laughing at me knowing exactly how these things pan out. The next steps of what I would still be yet to accept. I invited you in and you took everything you could except the bed. Even the trimmings on the shelf and those notebooks no one ever used. It was important to you somehow and my bed is a safety net protecting me from the world but couldn’t protect you. It saved me from you. The passing of time makes these things harder and harder to grasp on to but not so much to forget. Memories are a troublesome thing. Is it me or is it you, who knows what the truth is until its knocking at my door and I can’t turn my face away any longer. I long to see your familiar mess amongst my belongings as though they belonged somehow. But my heart can’t stand the pain it has to put through for me to be with you. I’m sure your heart feels the same even though I can hear my name being called in the distance. The fog clears and I can see what was always mine to begin with.
It is funny somehow, I know you will hardly be able to swallow the truth of the matter. But I will come right out and say it. The nights are cold a bit like death. It's like sleeping with a fridge, a second hand one that no body wants or will tolerate any longer. The edges are hard and difficult to hold. The handle is particularly tricky. You of all people know how much I can't bare the cold. The insides are empty and the door is left ajar like my skin has peeled away and my body has shrivelled up and left out to dry, like your old paintings you no longer care for. You are difficult to grasp and keep falling in between my fingers into the spaces where words fail us. We are left stuck inside the cracks. The past is creeping up on me again like the coldness of the dawn and the flickering and buzz of the fridge is calling out to you. The sounds are getting louder as each minute passes us by and there are less and less things to say. It becomes a promise that remains stuck inside. I never wanted it to turn out like this but here we are. The lines in between where I end and you begin is a vast cavern and everything between us is hidden under neath the sheets so no one can see. The truth never fails to make a tear come to my eye. Your face looks sadder as each day passes. Who would have known it would turn out like this, the sadness returns to haunt you like a shadow covering your heart. And then you vanish and are no where to be found. No goodbye note or thank you letter. Just emptiness in the spaces in which you used to belong.
I can feel them as they call my name softly and under the covers. It appears in ways that seem silly like that look or a small touch or glimmer of a smile. Some hope comes back to me that you are have become you always wanted to be. The dreams you and I had when we were children have come true like it all went exactly as planned. Well we both know that is not true but it went the way we needed it to be for us both to be free. My washing line has broken and is on its last legs, it buckled under all the weight and you face is different to before and your hair changed colour. Hope is all we need for things to become the way we wanted, the taps have stopped dripping and the mud has been cleared away. I love it when your boots are muddy and you stand there hopping from one foot to the other before you come into the house. Our house is warm and filled with all the things I've always wanted. My second hand furniture is loved by you just as much as me and I feel content at the thought of all the things yet to come. The children are making dance routines upstairs again and we can hear them through the creaky floorboards. The tiny patter of footsteps one would think it would be, but in actual fact it sounds like elephants up there. We look at each other and laugh because we would not have it any other way. And you reach over to me and I feel safe like home.
I feel like me but not, That tricky things are attempting to be a way that does not fit. Again there is nothing wrong with the way I was made and formed. This is celebrated by some and shamed by others. The silly parts are there to be enjoyed and kept. Only you know the truth, you are hiding away again and its okay. I have something up my sleeve in order to tempt you. Slowly making your way back out from hiding in the bush. Our childhood memories are whispering in the background and you can hear them ever so softly and they are bringing you back to me. It never has to be mentioned again that you went missing for all these years. You were missing but were always there somehow contradictions follow me round but we know it makes sense in the minds of those that feel. Rocks are crashing wildly against each other and there is a break exactly down the middle. I can hear them whispering ever so softly in the distance, the sounds are pleasing to my bones and I call out to you.
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.