Stepping beyond the familiar woods
From where I stand on the rocky cliffside
I can see him, there, out in the dark water…
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Stepping beyond the familiar woods
From where I stand on the rocky cliffside
I can see him, there, out in the dark water…
For you who holds my hands in one of your own
While holding a gentle mirror before me with the other
…
Moving quietly
Finding each other’s fragments
Meeting at crossroads
I’ve been curling slowly into withdrawal of late
Slowly, discreetly; time marching on
With no complaints, with no fanfare
Just reduction
…
It steals laughs
It seals cries
It steals connections
Possibilities, futures
Faces from hands
Hands from backs
…
There’s rarely fights
(We’re too solid for that, after all)
There’s just insidious malcontent
Morphing into anger first
And then, sometimes, madness
Turned inwards, burning from the inside out
…
Re-reading calmly:
poems written months ago
feel like yesterday
Old words remembered:
today they make me wonder
if I’ll ever change
Some friends are closer than others. Supposedly, so-called “soulmates” (people often only use that word in the context of romance and sex, but that’s not the only application of the term) can come in various forms, including friends and even family — I’ve been learning about the concept of “platonic soulmates”, where people have a very close bond with a friend for which there is zero romantic interest or sexual attraction. These are supposedly the friends you can truly be yourself around, who actually, honestly accept you; who you may have a great emotional intimacy with; who are there for you through just about anything imaginable; who help you really discover who you are, both good and bad. They bring so much benefit into your life, and with less up-and-down volatility (better word??) than can come with relationships of a romantic nature.
I can think of very few people who have come close to this throughout my life…
But I think I may have found one now, and I’m as terrified of losing it as I am grateful to have it.
In the corridors of your presence
I find four heavy doors
Behind the first
If I want to make thoughts real
Can form the words
And can synchronize the throat
I do
Behind the second…
How sad is it, that
love can grow without limits
while time only shrinks