Saturday night I was sitting down enjoying some hot coffee with Mark.
We were in our own little world for a moment, and for a second after the couple next to us
left I happened to notice a piece of paper that was left behind. I saw writing but I didn't want
to touch it because I thought maybe they would come back for it; so I proposed to wait for
ten minutes before glancing at what was on it. As the time passed, (we were playing Skip-Bo)
no one came back for the paper we decided to take a look at what was on it. It read on the
outside, "thank you for the coffee and inspiration." As we went on looking at the other side, this is what was written...
"She is made of porcelain and snowflakes, when you kiss her she melts,
And when you break her she cuts you fragile and sharp and cold and hardened in heat as she is.
She is made for equinox and Apocalypse,
for crossing every border and staying in the same spot forever.
She gives you hundreds of answers to questions he never had and thousands questions without answers.
She is South Pole your North Pole,
And your fingertips touch at the equator, your eyes meet across the silence.
Every time you fight she says "there are a hundred ways to fall love with an idiot, but there's no way to stop it," And she kisses you like she knows you, and maybe she does.
Sometimes she runs away
and that is how you learn to wait, sometime she comes skin to skin and warms the cold feet on your legs.
When you've just fallen asleep
and that is how you learn to dream with your eyes wide open
yes, sometimes she stings like disinfectant in your wounds,
Like loving her is a necessary pain to be healed;
The 3 AM phone calls that make you feel alive again,
when she tells you about a poem she just remembered,
and at times you fall asleep to the sound of her voice and your dreams are fluorescent and light.
She's made of cotton candy and clouds; when you kiss her she's almost too sweet
and when you hold her she is as far away as the sky and as close as a whisper.
She is the one you've never looked for,
but now you can't look away because you know
there's no other possibility than her."
-unknown
How beautiful; gracefully handwritten, from the heart and simply so chivalrous.
As mark read the words aloud it made me think, how precious it was to have been to receive
this poem. The warming adoration was breathtaking. Why don't people do these types of things
more often today; I mean it's so romantic and elegant. Sometimes we need to simply be reminded
that its the simple things that mean the most, like the words on a page.
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| Mark just playing around with my glasses. |
