Sunday December 22, 2013
Hold Me For Now
There was a time when the days bled into each other and we could not hear the tide of the ocean because it felt like our insides were making the same sounds. We, the two of us, we’d dance until we were tired. In the kitchen. With a roast burning in the oven. We, the three of us, you, me, and life, would hold hands while we slept or touch bums when we weren’t. There was a time when your face was too bright to even look at, or when I wasn’t ready for a love so right, or both. When we’d get home early just to spend more time in bed laying at the ceiling and listening to The Beach Boys, or the hum of our ancient radiators. We could not hear the sirens of the road, the chaos of a slippery tree cracking because our love was telling us stories and we were desperately trying to listen. There was a time, as if assembled by a five year old, our pieces stuck together; to each other with glue, with gentleness, with strength.