Cheers to Tears

The things only tears can see:

The way her heart beats backwards as he walks away, the way his face scrunches up because he doesn't really want to leave.

The green in his eyes and the sun in his smile.

Old friends so close yet long gone, their new smiles and high fives and wary glances back.

The shaking in the sky on the worst possible day.

The weight of new people, too many voices and too many unknown words.

She wants to say 'darling' but he wouldn't hear.

Fading interests and shorter summers.

Dozens of hungry eyes burning into shaking hands over simple black and white keys.

Spiraling frustrations and charming impossibles.

And...

Seeping sun rays through cold skin,

The happening upon just the right words,

She's the center of his stare, if only for a second,

and someday it might be longer.

Running from the Sky

There's something mystifying about rain. 

 

The urgency in its fall, the truimphant splash against cool ground and dark spaces. 

 

The twitter patter it leaves in your head, the slick feeling of its drops in your hair. 

 

The twirling and running, hands outstretched to grasp as many drops as will land. 

 

The clear clean, lingering smell, the smell of fresh earth and sprouting love. 

 

Wet shoes and soaked skin.

 

Falling up into the sky, into the clouds.

Higher

 

If I stretch enough I think I could touch the sky--

Charge

               There’s a charge in the air and it tickles my skin, swirling between us and tapping our shoulders.  I won’t let it past my skin, however, because I know what it will do if it reaches its tingling fingers any farther.  It’ll swim around my heart and slowly close in.  It’ll laugh a knowing laugh and cut off air and blood flow.  It’ll squeeze and it’ll hurt, but, oh, it’ll feel so good. 

                Sometimes I wonder if you feel the same thing around your own heart.  Do you feel the spark, the push, the constricting tendrils of that little charge? 

Does it scare you like it does me?

That’s why I can’t let it in, you see, because if I do it’ll get a grasp on me and then I won’t be able to say no.  I won’t be able to rely on my own heartbeats. 

But the gentle squeeze feels good.  Too good, maybe.  Perhaps it is so good and that is why it hurts.  Or is it good because it hurts? 

Whichever it is, I hope you’re feeling the sweet pain too.