Cold coffee and warm wine

I tend to dwell too much on things, on people. Recently, I find myself getting lost in you, increasingly fascinated. 

I found multiples things since our last meeting. I found that my pursue of knowledge, just as your own, is like a bottomless well. I have also found that I accidentally let it dry with the long arid summer weather. So, I enrolled in school to occupy first, my mind (and then, maybe, my soul). My heart, he is restless. He cannot sleep. He lingers in you. He lingers in your touch and my body follows, yearning. 

I still do not know which road to pave. I still do not know which one is my way.  He is at the end of a rope me at the end of another, screaming for understanding. My lack of love is too great. I would fly out to you but that would solve nothing. I would be, again, flying further away from myself, searching for love when love should come from within. 

I found that the memory of your touch is still able to make me moan, alone. I found that his touch is drier and his eyes (his soul) further away, almost out of reach. I do not know which way to go. I have no strength to hang on and neither to let it all go. 

The chaos around helps me think. It directs me to your words, your melody and your made up phrases about a girl with her hair up in a ponytail, dancing like a ballet star. Like a doctor taking about jazz. embellishing the world, you are, sitting in demi shadow. The rock where the children sat, making their first moves, one towards the other, hand touching another. Oh, how new it looked, how brand new it felt. Like the world died all at once and came back to life. 

Then came the night lights, and the guitars moaning with sadness, carrying the grief of thousands. Darkness ensues. Our love was inconspicuous there, in the midst of all that was feeling and all that was fog. We drank to life, to the lives we were grateful for, I am grateful. Grateful for sharing a drink, laughing, somehow easing, lifting the  weight of the world off my shoulders. Maybe tonight we can go dancing and maybe tomorrow we can go and forget.

Darkness always precedes light. I was thunder and he was lightning. Together we arrived in the morning and not a ray of sunlight, not even a bird dared sing or show its wings. Another day follows, he resumes his place, unknowing and hazy eyed, not caring. I resume my thinking, my daydreaming. I dare, for the first time, to think of a house on parisien ground. 

All is fair in love and war, I’ve heard, somewhere, waving in the wind. “There always has to be someone to write about”, you say over coffee. I nod. In between the lines we read, this cannot be. I resume walking, leave the half drank cup of coffee behind. You stare for a while and then just disappear into the darkness of my mind.