I see him and I am no longer confused.
I feel him and no longer wonder why anything in life ever happened.
The doubt creeps in daily – that, of my love.
I embrace it because there is nothing more refreshing
than falling in love over and over again,
“Oh, that is why.”
Over and over again?
I whisper to myself, “what are you doing silly girl?”
The response is silent and he re-enters the room – the silly girl winks at my whisper.
He is silent and smiling with an “I love you,” between his lips.
This is magic.
This is what I am doing.
He makes me forget what it was I was honestly thinking about.
He is the only truth I need.
There is no reality to the thought before,
I share my new moment and he isn’t even aware that I just mushroomed inside.
I see him breathe, chest up and exhale
this makes me beam – he is real.
His life makes mine warmer and more relaxed.
He is beautiful, my sun, the light and pace of my breath.
The muse between my doubts and injustices
that I place on myself as a broken woman – judging.
I am old Japanese pottery, he is the gold that holds together the chipped pieces of my soul.
Reminding me that I am here and unique
and that love is not imaginary,
it is not passive.
He stables my emotions by being silent when he is annoyed
He lets me crawl all over him without a flinch or a flee,
Yet he communicates fluidly – raw in his emotion.
His lips touch mine with a spark of hope and wonder.
We are a sea of love and the waves wash over us every morning,
Beautiful sunsets are expressed as we lay ourselves to sleep at night –
tangled in the bed – the horizon
The pillows, the clouds.
I am the moon rising over him as he sets into the nightly sea of sheets.
He is my dream.
I formed him from stardust so I could watch him rise daily
Then follow him as he dips into the faded sea.
I am his moon.
The youth we both need is in the love we share,
as the lives we lived were not really that fair.
I came into his world new, yet tempered – still ashy from the forge of my past life.
The green hills drew me in and the waves cleansed me.
He showed up just in time.
Walking on the sand – the palm trees danced as he passed.
Smoking his pipe and playing with his hair.
“You come here often?”
He didn’t understand English.
And that made it all that much more clear.