All these things that I have done

"Won't you dance with me,

Lover of my soul

To the song of all songs?"

I'm going back to church.

Really, I knew I was going back by the time summer rolled around. I've had enough with my own excuses - not enough time, not ready.

The time is here.

I don't want to live eternally under the shadow of my past.

I will define my future with the freedom to choose.

"Puisque dans l'univers la vie est née de rien, et qu'une étoile renaît d'un soleil qui s'éteint."

"You look happy."

"Don't I always?"

"Yeah I guess so. Then right now, you look happier than normal and that makes me happy"

Image from Weheartit.com

Sic Transit Gloria Mundi

I'm a means to your end, a physical obstacle between where you are and who you're looking for. I can't tell you where they are, or when they're coming home.

But I see you.

I do.

I see gravity pressing your shoulders down. I see the anticipation and excitement flicker out and die.

Come back, I want to whisper. They will come for you.

My dead wood knows. Yours can see too.

A knock for a knock.

So leave me wide open, my door and yours, to let your loved ones come running.

And I promise you, they will come.

If only you would see the joy in your eyes.

Tick Tock

I must confess, there's just something about your ambition.

I like your drive. I like your goals.

I like always cracking jokes and never really having a serious moment. Let's be honest, we both can always get that elsewhere.

"Hmm something's out of place."

"Hmm? Moving around furniture again?"

"Yeah but.. no, wait come here... Yeah. Now everything's perfect."

But I think we can both agree that this isn't going anywhere. It's just for now. It's just for the summer. It's just until the real work begins.

And...

I like that.

What are you afraid of?

A husk.
A condensation of past, tossed at the doorway.
The treble, the bass dictating a thump.
What was that?
A heart, a bass, fear?
Surrendered to comfort, drooping closed.
Gravitating towards open arms.
You kissed my head, but
These old bones are resting.

Robert Montgomery