Feathers and Fragments

thoughts for Glimmerspell

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DAY WHENEVER

It's been a while, Darling. But I have not forgotten you.

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DAY 15

I have been waiting for you at the edge of the lake, my eyes wide open for the ripples on your waters. How have you been doing? I have been here for days, waiting.

I am only met with nothing but air.

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DAY 7

I still ache for you, even in the good days. This is how I know I love you -- because even when I have the entire world around me, I always search for your eyes.

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DAY 6

Love, where have you been? Were you wandering, wondering? I am still here. Still here.

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DAY 5

I have quietly sat in the middle of this room for a few hours, listening to the soft whispers of the walls. They still whisper your name, glimmer. They still whisper your name.

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DAY 4

How have you been? My life consisted of speeding cars lately, too fast for me to catch up. Today, I have rediscovered the art of breathing. Are you awake by now? Do you even seek for me in the skies?

My life is full of speeding cars, lately -- I wonder if you'd ever run with me through them, through light years...with your hand in mine.

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DAY 3

My life lately felt like one of those movies that blur you by -- nothing really registers in particular, except for the quiet nights when the moon hangs low in the sky and its gold light tastes terribly like whiskey in my throat.

I count the days until you find your way back, to this north.

I wonder if you're in bed right now, lying awake, cursing at the moon for showing you beauty and the night taking it away from you.

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DAY 2

In a way, I have only learned to be feel you the way the world was ending. I know we will not find ourselves in the same state of mind once more. You are a one-time spell, the quick burst of golden light at dawn, the bright flash of green at sundown.

I only know my affections for you like I know war -- desperate, taking you out of my ribs like the whole world depended on it and pushing it back in right where it belongs. I wish I wasn't so godless, but I am, I am.

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DAY 1

Something washes over me and it is not a baptismal, but a communion. In bed, shrinking -- into the smallest space i could allow myself to fit into

Words, spilling like a thousand cuts, burning like a dragon has given birth into my throat. How do i tame such tenderstorm raging inside me?

I would have held you a little longer, held you a little longer.