Circa 2007
As I awoke this morning, sharp blast of the alarm clock wailing, I thought I saw you in the corner of my mind. The crook of your smile, the star-light in your eyes, a memory of your touch – I thought I remembered it this morning. A memory from beyond the time of remembering, as much a part of me as my parent’s DNA tied up in neat little packages within each of my cells. My heart has always had a cubby with your name on it. You carved it out in a place beyond all places. It used to ache, this hole that belongs to you, but now it is filled with hope because I feel you are near although I have no way of knowing you. So unique, it can only belong to you. You keep me waiting, but I wait patiently because your cubby has your name on it and no one else can belong there – that would be against the rules. My friends don’t have cubbies within their hearts. I used to envy them their pain-free existences. But then I realized that with hope living all cozy and safe within this hole in my heart, I still have a heart while they take theirs out of their bodies to offer passers-by who like to admire for a time but then leave them in the dust to become shriveled and dried out. My heart is not overly soiled. It is merely lonely.
As I awoke this morning, sharp blast of the alarm clock wailing, I thought I saw you in the corner of my mind. The crook of your smile, the star-light in your eyes, a memory of your touch – I thought I remembered it this morning. A memory from beyond the time of remembering, as much a part of me as my parent’s DNA tied up in neat little packages within each of my cells. My heart has always had a cubby with your name on it. You carved it out in a place beyond all places. It used to ache, this hole that belongs to you, but now it is filled with hope because I feel you are near although I have no way of knowing you. So unique, it can only belong to you. You keep me waiting, but I wait patiently because your cubby has your name on it and no one else can belong there – that would be against the rules. My friends don’t have cubbies within their hearts. I used to envy them their pain-free existences. But then I realized that with hope living all cozy and safe within this hole in my heart, I still have a heart while they take theirs out of their bodies to offer passers-by who like to admire for a time but then leave them in the dust to become shriveled and dried out. My heart is not overly soiled. It is merely lonely.
Very poetic.
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