I Do

Ageless days and sleepless nights;
city by city,
hour through hour,
sunset to dawn,
and it had arrived...

 With my head kept faced down towards the pavement, carrying myself to each destination, drawn with wishful thinking.

 It came to me on a somber night of October skies, with the rain peacefully caressing the back of my neck, like fingers: running smoothly. I traced my thoughts in the mud as I toiled through the field, until I arrived at a place I often visited, known as the lost traveller's motel; with a shady, darkened roommate with a sole motive to push away inamorata, who's love unrequited; upon drowning himself in a bottle of cheap Merlot. He remained stationed as each day passed. As I walked past him, I could hear the sounds of late night talk shows, and cars crashing through tainted waves formed in potholes outside the windows. As he swallowed his drink, he hesitantly said “hello.” But, before I could respond, I was buried in the work of my vocational burden.

 As late hours pass and work reaches its end, I pack my things and await the arrival of the new hour. At this time, I could hear my roommate gathering his belongings and making his way to bed. With this, I knew I would be able to return home to see her, waiting for me calmly in the night, sitting with her hands placed firmly in her lap, with her modest smile placed frivolously in her thoughts; painting a colourful image on her pale visage.

As I glanced at the clock, the hour had struck; the humming-like snoring indicating my release into night. As I cracked the window, the breeze gently crept into my lungs like nature's kiss, shyly and smoothly caressing my chest as I scaled down the wall and down to the ground. I noticed it as the night I had imagined: lively friends and family members of my neighbourhood, exchanging conversation as the rain poured on; huddled on their porches in warmth, eyes fixed on the sky like antennas to heaven. [as mine remained down] Every perfectly-placed crack that lay in the sidewalk; measuring the distance of each past lover I had equally; for these crack were all I knew.

Night passes on, the rain slowly subsides as dawn begins peering over distant houses. With a feeling of clarity to encompass the sky's artwork, I watch cracks slowly fade in the pavement. Odd encounters and sights considered, I push through until I notice a light appearing at my feet; slowly and more vibrant with each step. As I come to a halt, I am blinded. In an instance, the light had faded, and the ground was blank.

 As I looked up, there she was: sitting on a tree stump, with the rain slowly dripping from her long, rich brown hair, and onto her face that captured nothing but a glance of my expression of euphoria. It had all came together in that moment: as my tracks filled the cracks of all that had gone wrong, I was led to reason and all that was pure. As I leaned down to touch her hand, it had met in a comforting fashion, sinking slowly into the crevice of my fingers, like water into sand. As I pulled her down with me to the ground, she let out a slow, quaint laughter that carried through the morning's breeze, shattering whispers of the trees. Now we're fixated on the horizon: the colours painting an imagine on the foreground; a celestial vision that spoke my thoughts in harmony. As I looked over at her, the words had finally blew out with truth:
 
 “I love you.”

 I was home, everything made sense now.




I traced my name in the sand, where darkness meets light, I lost rationality through fear, exchanging melody and reason, for the petty tabloids in this city's wasted seasons. Where darkness meets light, the memories fade and the mirrors crack, from the sight of my pompous guardian, becoming the ventriloquist, of my weak, adolescent frame, guiding me to the educational Holocaust: where false words are guidelines; running parallel with a poet's cheated vows. I've wasted my skin, on burnt reds and photos of nights spent, counting mantras of waves, and flames of blood in the sky of summer's madness, melting into the ink of a pen, where a home full of letters of my romantic past, are written effervescently on the walls, for the earth and it's friends to hear. When I return home, I hope to hear the words, I once so carefully carved into life, seeping through the floors, and into the cracks of every rich, weathered floor board, where I had left my hands to their sworn love: Where they traced their name in the sand; where the darkness meets the light.