There are fireworks going off here. It’s like the world is calling out her name. Listen to me, my friend. Before you go there are some things you must know.
You will meet her, and her beauty will confuse you. It will derail you.
You will sit across the table from her and she will move the furniture in your head and open the fusty windows, and you will let her.
You will be fuddled. You will be dazzled. You will become someone you do not recognise. Such is her charm. Such is her wonder. Her beauty like thunder. Like a sink hole appearing before your very eyes. Incapacitating. Dismantling.
You will fall, as I did. And you think you know yourself. She is most wise in things unknowing and needing undoing. Wear shoelaces and watch.
Go with your chest open, my friend. She takes up so much room you might burst. You may need stitches. You may never need anything ever again.
When she looks at you, look away. Don’t look at her. It makes you fall off your seat. It makes you dizzy. You’ll need to make room for air. You’ll need to make room in every in every room. She is a river.
She smiles in a way that makes people need to leave the city. Because they have homes and families and she makes them forget it all.
Are you listening to me? You are one lucky son of a bitch. You fortunate whore. Are you listening? Bleed every clock in the city for her.
Give her anything she asks for.
She asks for nothing.
Offer her your life. No. Listen, offer her mine. Tell her I will come with it in person.
Oh she will rob you blind. She will take nothing and when you see her leave, you will feel everything you own disappear before you.
Go with loosened purse strings. Buy the day back. Days are moments. Over lunch, you become an older man. She hides all time under her tongue
You will forget your knees, my friend. Don’t forget your knees. You will need them later. She has so many knees from everyone who forgets. Where does she keep these knees?
Give her everything. Everything is for her. Come back broken and empty-handed. Give her what you have of me. And what you can part with of your own. Come home a pauper and then I will know that you have seen my love.
4 Comments Add yours
too beautiful. too painful.
I am here to ask you something.I have been following you for quite some time now.Your writing makes me feel understood and expressed.As if I explode and lie on your paper.
I love somebody who left me more than a decade ago.My love and pain has only grown.It is one constant in this changing world.How have you loved somebody else after loving ‘the one’?Have you ? Have you not? How have you cultivated friendships post her? I have not even found anyone with whom I could even confide on how intensely I love her.How weak and dark it makes me.How do you love? How do you people? I can’t people.How do you go meet people from twitter n elsewhere..
I don’t know why I have waited for so long to ask you this.I am not even sure I am making any sense.I am in my 30s .Will I survive till my 40s n 50s.How have you survived?
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This comment of yours may be even more beautiful than the stunning post itself.