I’ve come to love the shade of red your
nose becomes every December morning,
the month you still call your favourite for
you can ask me to kiss the numbness
I know what it feels like to sit on
the terrace, to quietly sip tea and seeing
off the sun every day, not having a plan,
not needing one.
I know which book to
pick up next, the one that magically
makes it to the bedside table, filled with
almost-gibberish scribbles and side-notes,
the book that smells the most like you
and your imagination.
I see what it is to
be seen and heard in even the largest,
loudest rooms, to have my hand held
from miles away, to be your personal
I know what it means to mean
the world to you, to know you.
There are things that I’ve come to love.
Standing on the balcony of a tall building,
letting the wind drown the notice outside
and inside my head.
Walking through empty corridors,
following the echo of my own footsteps.
Early morning rides and listening to
nothing but the muffled engine and
each breath that I take, and stopping
in the middle of nowhere, looking at
clouds changing shapes, relishing
the silence in between cars.
Staying up late at night and writing,
or watching a film that really hits the heart,
and then falling asleep after the birds
have woken up, in your arms.
I like getting
lost that way, just enough to not see but
feel where I am, hearing only the silence
of the one, I’m with, sometimes me,
You stumble upon the quietest shacks.
You sing your own songs.
You write stories that never end.
You walk in the woods to lose yourself.
You believe in love.
You dance on cliffs and paper-thin ice.
You run after falling stars
to hang them up in your room.
You jump on maple seeds,
You face the strongest winds with
your arms wide open and your
hair untied, tangled Rapunzel.
Just when it’s about to rain,
we’ll walk to our favourite tea-stall,
get two cups each, because one will never do,
and sit at our spot, a secluded staircase,
humming along with our favourite songs.
We’ll dance when there’s nothing else to do,
with music, without, but in each others’ arms.
We’ll laugh a lot,
and sometimes we’ll be funny too.
We’ll make plans and cancel on them
to spend weekend nights on the terrace,
again, with a lot of tea and
a movie we can talk
to sleep about.
And, we’ll travel cities on
always towards each other.
It has been raining for the last eleven days,
and inside we’re drenched, in love,
you in my company, I in yours.
Brewing tea, and moistened grass,
competing scents to breathe in for
a couple of dream-hearts, curled up
in a couch, drawing on the blanket
of clouds hanging out of our window,
hiding sunsets and pausing time
in our house on the hilltop,
and in its silhouette,
we fill our silences with
the crayons of our thoughts.