Coffee and Daydreams

Oh, I get poked too. From time to time. Here and there. Little things that are so subtle sometimes that it passes me by until a moment seizes me and freezes time. Then, I am transported back to you. I remember glimpses, flashes, and feelings mostly. I remember the thoughts and the unquestioned possibilities from a different time. But I am in a forgiving state now. Forgiving to myself, to you. To all the little failures between us. To all the wishes that never had a chance to lift off. To the love that didn't stand a chance. It was real, wasn't it? I've learned to detach myself so well that I often wonder if I didn't imagine half of it all. But you're there--poking me. Telling me things that are not hardly ever possible now. But it's worth a smile to read. And to understand where it's all coming from.

Peek-a-boo

This is like therapy. Funny how someone so distant can suddenly seem so near and yet a thousand milestones could never measure the space between us. But I see you. I hear you. And your words light a fire on memories long chained and sunk under deep waters. I cannot feel you anymore. But I can feel me. I can close my eyes and understand what you're saying. And sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can remember. Funny how after all this time, remembering can make everything so real again. The only time machine a person ever needs is the mind. And yet the mind is also so painfully deceptive that you cannot trust what it brings back to you. But I see you. And I hear you. And I hope listening to you puts back together what was once broken. Even in just a little way.