How long has it been since you've cooked breakfast for someone? Probably too long and it was most likely for a man, at that. Real slick, Slick. A sentence to encompass what just transpired in the form of a list: 4 eggs, half a container of roasted red potatoes, a healthy blanket of organic salsa, slathering of Chalula ('cause why not?), four small slices of Pepperjack strategically placed, five strips of bacon, two cups of Boom., Almond milk splash, sugar in the raw, Love, and topped with a Cilantro-Lime aioli. Sweet, heavenly flutterbys. Who are you? Fantastic. She was finished as you were, raring to go on this day of days.
You fell in love on Friday the 13th, as that's supposed to be significant and therefore you've written it down. How did this happen? Now you're both our on your metal staircase, writing in tandem, an endless dance that is most definitely not a waltz. More like a salsa or merengue, which you keep trapped within yourself, deep down where no one has sifted through to look in a rather long time. She did, with spade and hammer, crashing through layers of rock and sorrows long fossilized in impenetrable cakings about your warm, gooey center. Digging and digging, and gently coaxing the grit from your heart with a fine-haired brush, ever so softly. She held her treasure aloft in the morning sunlight, and was pleased. Not just pleased, but enthralled with the teaming powers encapsulated within its ragged crystalline form. The vibrations warmed her fingers and palms, coursing icy, yet comfortable, shivers to the base of her spine and back again. I resounded as a smile through her entire being -- my essence melding to hers.
Last night I experience my first seemingly Tantric moment. Spasms wracked my body, and if there were words to speak then that were right, I would have, and instead I burbled growls and yearned with moans and purs. The message got across, regardless, as I am finding terribly quickly that we are of a single mind, and it is the single-most terrifying thought I've ever encountered.
Never. Never had I thought this possible. Even now I feel I can't watch her straight on, lest I blind myself insane upon her radiance. What am I to do now?
I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.
Now you know where Home is, and I'm slowly losing grip of my worries, which I've held onto as she holds my crystal heart: adoringly, nurturingly, fully concerned with absolutely nothing else, all-knowingly coaxing it to be still. She whispers to the gem in her palm,
"It will be alright. I've found you now."
This. This is what you were "supposed to stop looking for", as it would find you on its own. It has. Spending your life contemplating where your counterpart resides, solely because you've felt criminally incomplete this whole time. You begin to wonder whether each inexplicable turmoil and swing of depression was solely a significant heartache of the other and you were simply crestfallen by the distance and the powers of your empathetic link. Yelling at the shadows, because you've felt her there all along, feeling around in the darkness for you. You went to call out to her. Made the sound that explains your true self, and it attracted scavengers posed as her: shape-shifting succubi with sonorous sussurus, sweetly sapping essential sorrows from a soul you're still not sure exists. All I know is you weren't ready for her 'til this very moment. She wanted you as you are, not as you were while you hoped to be a better version of yourself. "Thank you, playlist." You're pulling it all together now, and it's terrifying, because you were certain that you had felt Love and understood what it entailed and understood how to stoke its embers. Those were false images and feelings. True love simply is. It's not something that you have to work to create, simply open up to, and it comes spilling in, in a single rush, filling the empty crevasses that have rung hollow behind your eyes for far too long.
It screams, "I'm here, I'm here, I'm here!" And you smile at its adorable mannerisms and thought processes, as you know they are yours. Both of you as one against the crushing weight of existence, except now it is simply a hawk's feather you hold onto for good luck. Those experiences shaped you into this man.
I have been found. I am someone's home, and she mine. Now the forest beckons. Let's dance.
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