Heartbeats

I find myself coming back to you as if I’ve forgotten something – something tucked in the folds of your soul that I can’t quite remember I’ve lost, but is there – haunting, calling, like a dream on the edge of my memory, just beyond the warm blackness of dawn, slipping so quickly beyond my grasp, and knowing that I too slip quickly into wakeness and deeper into hope, desire, fervor, and, dare I say, love, as though it’s not what I already know, but what I feel about you as you stand there, unknowing, open, guards down, unaware of the quake you leave in your wake, the hollow as your voice fades, something I cannot reach – cannot recall – yet stand on the precipice yelling out into the darkness all the while hoping that what returns to me through the enveloping deep is not my own reflection, but a resonant warmth, alive and well, welcoming and in love – a sign that I am not alone, and that perhaps I am here, we are here, together.

For the things I lost, please find me again. And I promise to keep searching for you too.