#blackinklamb

[blackinklamb]

Cloudy Weather

It is six am. My room is bathed in soft blue light, And the rain picks up and beats itself against my rooftop. The silence between the drops feels louder than the storm but not louder than my thoughts.. Because when it’s six am, and raining, I pick up the dreams of the future that I’ve tucked away in some old shoebox at the back of my mind and play them against the lids of my eyes until I’m picturing wraparound porches with our dog nestled comfortably beneath the bench we sit on.. And blankets draped over shoulders and coffee still hot enough to burn our tongues. And I’m imagining large open windows mirroring large open fields and the wind blowing just enough to let the smell of damp earth and gardenias float down from the hills into the livingroom where it settles and soaks into our furniture. Because in my dreams, our faces are aged, but our love is still young.. and our hearts are still full, and our hands are still perfect fitting pieces of the same puzzle we’ve been building for last thirty years. And the sky is a soft blue. And it’s six am. And it’s raining.

[blackinklamb]

You

Marry me, darling, Let me take pictures of you every day in all of your ordinary glory. Early morning hair a mess, making tea, smile bubbling over your cheekbones and eyes illuminating brighter than the sunshine streaming through our kitchen window. Let them burn their perfect image into my mind until I see them every time I close my eyes.

Marry me, dearest,  Let me record your laugh - wondrous and full and unrestrained. Let me capture the way your head tilts gently backwards and how the sound dances off your tongue and leaps off your lips, so I can replay it when I’m sad and let the love inside it spread across my skin and cradle me in its embrace.

Marry me, sweetest, Let me show the world how beautiful you are in every magnificent moment when you are but softly existing. Let me fill the world with the warmth of your being, the magic of your presence, the enchantment of your love. Let them witness the miracle  that is you.

[blackinklamb]

Reminders.

Blueberry scones and you on Sunday mornings were my favourite things Before a time when our thoughts burned brighter than those cheap fluorescent lightbulbs that hung in the halls of some dirty one-bedroom apartment.. flickering on and off like our passion.

Our kisses now looked like the photo frames hanging just off center lined with dusty glass; And our fights sounded like the dripping of a leaky faucet too rusted to really turn off.

When finally it was all over and the “us” we knew was laid to rest, our potential still clung to the floorboards haunting our movements and echoing the slow vibrations of our footsteps. It said, “Look at what you could have been.”

Our memories were still tangible and tied to the bedposts to keep them from floating off like ghosts, still sloppily strewn about the room like the cheap pieces of fabric anchors left there to pretend we were once grounded. They begged, “Look at what you were.”

But there - sleeping with the mildew between the groutlines of this tiled bathroom and scattered among the breadcrumbs left on the mattress.. all broken down so effortlessly; like our wills, like our love.. There was our reality: Calling out, “Look at what you are.”

[blackinklamb]

Reflections.

I feel.. haunted. Not by the celestial spirit, but by myself. The ghost of who I once was. I see, I feel.. Nothing, everything. Twisted fingers scratching towards the solid. Twisted fingers scratching towards me.

Shadows dance over these bare walls that reflect the bones of my cage and screams echo throughout my lungs.. but are never released, I am silent. I could drown in my own terror. I am afraid. I am afraid. Of me.