New

You are the stranger to my familiar.

We dance around these words, same people, new year, old feelings.

Where you stand, I am rooted

Where you drown, I sink only to be uprooted.

So, we dance around these things; like how your eyes follow me around a room, how you call me first thing in the morning, how you call me sometimes just to exhale…everyone but us accepts this space we create, we do not wish to inhabit it.

A man in a leather jacket looking down while sitting on a ledge in a city
whoislimos/unsplash.com

I scare you

“What scares me the most about you is that I never know what you are thinking, sometimes…see, like right now, you look at me like you are sorting rice, taking out the wrong, and shoving the right aside.”

“Wait, what? Rice?”

“It’s just an analogy love.”

“Love?”

You are the stranger to my familiar, a presence I cannot deny. So like everyone else, we dance…my hand in yours, your hand around my waist and for everything I hold dear, it is my breath that I refuse to let go of…even as we rock back and forth, and in the slightest of tones you bend your head, whisper into my ear “…breathe.”

And so as the world counts down, every second of this new hope, I find myself drifting into the space we refuse to inhabit…and then, just when I choose to step back, you tilt my chin up, look into my eyes…and I see it.

So I close my eyes, let the tears fall and my world stops but yours, no, yours begins and you say “happy new year Love, come for me when you are ready to see what we are.”


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