Saturday, 25 June 2016

A Jolt Of Warmth For This Loner

I cleaned out my desk today.

The letters you wrote me still live here.
They did not surprise me, it was more of a jolt, maybe even a rush.
An overflow of a lot of things that I have not yet identified.

Every time I clean up, I can not seem to throw them out.
Years have passed and not even the table top remained the same,
Yet the presence of your letters are the only constant.

Would it be too much to say they still hold your smell, both letters and cards?
I did not read them this time. I just stared at them, as if I were drawing out the spirit of what we had that lives within them.

Sometimes I still bother to read them, I guess to remind myself of the warmth you provided.
To remind myself of how agonising it was to be apart.
The moments filled with lust shared in deserted college hallways.
The quiet ones shared as well, where words didn't exist but everything was right because you were there.

I see you now and try to dive into your soul with a stare.
Wondering if you are still the same, or if I'd be able to live with the new you, or if I'd be too stuck in the past to appreciate her.

A warmth still lingers, I felt it, Lord knows I felt it when I traced the words you wrote down for me.

I don't read into it anymore, it is the price paid for loneliness. There is too much space in my mind, and my thoughts have echoed around me for too long. I tend to latch onto whatever light I can find.

Or maybe this is me lying to myself once more,
Afraid to admit to myself I could still feel something for you after so long.

For now, a jolt will do just fine.

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