akaCLL

 I am still trying to find my words. You see, you had taken them away for a while. You had me breathless, reckless, led by the heart and sprung off by impulse. Within that small month and a half, when I did write, the dimness kissed my skin in the same way you do, and I wrote about you- your lips and your hands around my waist. There was no need for words, only you. And the things more complicated and which I thought about as I navigated your whirlpool of a mind, I didn't know quite how to write about either. So words were left on the back-burner   while I was all over you.

Even now, the act still occurs to me as unnecessary. If I do not have you to hold I know the curves of each letter do not either. You are a wisp of purple and blue light dancing with the dust, an enigma that is of my own more than anything. Although I know you too are a complex creature whose habits and tendencies I've only managed to prod and observe the surface of. 

It is already murky there. Ashy and littered with solid things, stubborn and unbudging. I had a sense of that by the third time we met. I say the third time although I can't remember what was the third time or what we did or where we went -SQ that's it-. Maybe not so precisely the third time but nonetheless a sense that accumulated in strength from early on. I felt it: first, the particles that disturbed the course - the apparent red flags I should've heeded. But that was when I realised that that quality did not diminish my adoration. I was not a mere hopeless romantic with a constructed ideal. I was aware of the ways you limped but I still thought you wonderful. The parts of you that my theorising self was averse to did not repulse me. I wonder if it was hope that smoothed its rough surface. Hope appears to reveal its strength more and more as time goes by. 

Aug 20