weightless currents

it was raining the day we met,

i remember the whispers of gold drizzle  

tapering along the sidelight

as it washed over the derelict walls that held the dreams

of unkept souls.

i remember the rain on the soft of your hair

weightless,

outlining everything that took my breath away;

the air tasted like booze and earth.

the rain has never stopped,

pouring out its centre through the scape of 

heavy emotions,

giving weight to all.

it is a weight of my head on your shoulder

as we breathe to one another stories that

form rings and coil themselves into the air

until all we breathe is of each other.

i have seen the way

the delicate sleeves of morning skies 

unfurl at the end of your slumber

kissing your eyelashes as they 

flutter into another day.

i have seen these eyelashes

flutter in protection over

angry eyes, dry and tormented

when hurt tasted like stomach acid and tobacco.

i have felt the inability to look at you.

our eyes divert behind furious quakes 

that shake the bridge of our consciousness.

i have climbed your walls

as many times as i have built mine,

but somehow there is always a boat 

by the river under our bridge

where we float in silence until our eyes

meet

and the walls wane to the furious quake’s final shudder.

i have grown to understand the ability

of falling asleep with you

and staying awake without.

i recite the mental notes in my head,

and sometimes i do it aloud

overturning my reality of everything i know,

including you

and all the ways i have grown to love you.

when the relentless storms pass,

i remember you.

the rise of your nose,

the fall between your lips 

shying into a smile,

the way your whole body floats on every cloud of a breath.

i remember your stunning gaze

as you searched for my truths,

my hopes, my agony

and my all

between cigarette papers and

warm mugs gone cold.

the way your arms tingle when they meet

delicate friction, and the rough ends of your guitar fingers 

do not represent your gentlest touch.

i have mapped out the geometrical landscape of your back

and dreamt on the plains of your chest as you 

slept in metronomic sighs.

i remember you in utter completion,

and i waver in relief.

i imagine for our love to

age like a favourite book, 

the pages of our story

will curl at the edges, creased at the spine

from experience and good use.

i want to collect every fragment of your

buried hopes

and present them to you in different disguises,

until they become the new hope

that will always remind you of who you are.

there is much more to life

than poems and shadow puppets,

than routine chocolate and jokes that

always bring out a laugh,

than the usual mistakes, the unforgivable buzz in the room

when there are no words left to say,

there is much more to our regularities,

but there is nothing more wholesome

than the way our eyes 

meet 

and love is everything.

the rain will fall again,

cold upon my fingertips,

just like the night we met

when our eyes were tired and 

our breath formed clumps of December air

and we grew to listen to our

minds yearning for the warmth and solace of another.

we are tidal waves,

forever on the rise and fall of life’s equator,

but no matter how heavy we crash

on foreign shores,

we will always find ourselves

as one whole form

at the centre of the sea.