Graphic Lyrism vol. III

For I want to cry as I hear the rain slashing the pavement,
As I smell the wet of the bricks, of your cooling street
And contemplate the condensation creeping across the dusty surface of your windows – the most pristine door to your soul.
Then, a cool breeze kisses my back; it is no longer the dawn’s zephyr, but your mouth that I feel. That I adore
Piercing through my skin and cutting down to the bone; your words.
Your voice.
Your ethereal, silent self.
And hesitation…

For I could die, I could disappear, I could never think again and the single thing that shall ever be
is the LOVE that I have for you.
That I owe you.
There is not enough grammar, vocabulary, semantics, paper in this entire world to report even the tiniest, tangible taste of what it is to dwell in this absolute certainty that you ARE
… and I live
And there is a communion that cannot be broken or even corrupted.

What is time?
What is space?
What is life between us?

And negativity only is to affirm the uttermost positive feelings and emotions that rise when I think of you.
When you breathe
When you speak
When you read
When you walk
When you smile
When you carry something from one place to another and pause for a moment to reflect and make sure this was the right spot to place it
When your hands have incontrollable actions that are far too beautiful to be called fidgeting, and when your feet move better than merely dancing, when you apparently are lost in translation but actually are miles ahead of everything and everyone… and you laugh in thought, and the air breaks
There is no more reasoning, no more Reason, no more anything that can come close to the colour of your eyes dissolving in moonlight and sunlight and sea
And polluted cities by dawn.

Frosty mornings whither my negligence, and become mild with your genuine, incorruptible flare.

Where are you? As for now
I wonder
I pretend I don’t know

You wander
You pretend I don’t care
Chimeras are hollow when facing our_
Melodic, synchronic, rhythmic and perfectly-timed
Sometimes singing
Dying (a little)
Growing up (… a lot)
And just existing in an untrained unparalleled, unsurpassable… partnership.

Deadening noises, outside.
They remind me of the euphonious jocundity that our mutual stillness used to have.
Still has.
Even if in thought
Even if in concordant… withdrawal
Even if in forced length
Even if in oft absence
In everyday yearning
Though filled, recurrent need
Our all-wise, unerring choice.

Everything around me has become clearer, ever since you came into my life and gave meaning to my existence.

mirrored souls were not made to be, but just face each other from a distance.

Will I
come for you?
I don’t know.
One thing is for sure: if I did… go
 for you… it wouldn’t be the same, for my nuclear, focused self would be lost in the process. And I know that I love you, and you love me, and I love to love you for the way WE are; the way we always have been: no omissions or additions to it.
So I linger, so I stay, so I wait for an external confirmation to keep me up with my sanity. How annoyingly cold, how downright judgemental can be one’s conscience. (By know you are probably mocking my tortuous morals; but then I have them and so do you…)

And here I am,
(afraid and doubting myself for the first time,)
although the sole, most important unshakeable assurance I now have is that

I do love you entirely.

and you saved me without even knowing.