I so want to take your hand in mine and walk off into the sunset, unafraid of what's to come. And that is because I love you. When I hear you breathe, my heart beats with worry that you won't again and my blood grows cold—but, thankfully, you do, and I am left listening to the hastened beats, "I am. I am. I am," and I can hear my blood starting to flow again. Then, my eyes get dreary with relief, as I find myself still able to connect with you, the wire I thought had been unplugged, and so my head drops into my hands, a lump catching in my throat.
I can't bear the thought of losing you, but to die before you, would be selfish. A motif I have long explored: the notion that we can keep our fingers locked together unto death does us part, and thus, our souls can mingle like colours in a palette, and their blaze knock against our skull and bones. But this is absurd. The heat from our love may never shimmer across our skeletons, causing a leg to jerk at the promise of life, and a "thud!" to be heard by the earthworms in the murky mud. But if the opposite is true, we best hope that such heat can put a spark to the walls of our chambers. So that we may meet on the grounds where we once placed our fee- -
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The Heart's Tempo
Terror• Love • Romance • Poetry • Prose • Emotional • Philosophical • Heartfelt • Self-discovery • Connection • Desire • Vulnerability • Existential • Identity • Metaphor • Passion • Youthful • Lyrical • Intimate • Journey • Reflection ...
