They Are A Little Breathless As They Speak.

They are a little breathless as they speak.

“Please, don't leave like this.”

Rage simmers in a pot of tears in my lungs.

“Stop!” I mean it to come out commanding but instead, my voice cracks and it comes out a rasp.

They've paused a few feet away from me.

“Stop. okay? Just...do me a favour. Pretend like this never happened. Not tonight, not last night or the night before. You’ll go home and keep living your life the way you did before you came here. And I’ll go home too.” I swallow hard.

“I’ll go home and live my life the way I did before I came here.” I try and fight tears to speak clearly.

“A-and we’ll both keep living as though we never met someone in a kitchen in Paris and--” I'm falling apart at the seams.

“You know we can't do that,” Jun rasps and takes a few small steps forward.

“We both know that can’t happen. I-I can’t go home and forget. Adam--”

“Stop,” I angrily wipe my eyes.

“You don't get to say that.” the tears are spilling out all over again. It seems like I never run out of them.

“You don't get to tell me that you can’t help me and that I have to go back home to them and then that you can’t forget me, you-you-- JUST CAN’T!” I'm sobbing now.

Another few small steps forward as they speak their voice softens a little.

“I never said I couldn't help you, Adam. I just can't help all of them. I can’t. It's not possible, you have to try and understand that. And--and try and understand that I don't know any one of them. But--Adam I know you. And God damn me for saying this but I’d choose you. I’d choose you over all of them. Those hundred men. Overall those women and their political titles. I’d choose you over all of them.”

This only makes me cry harder and yet Jun continues until they're there in front of me, hand brushing the tears away.

“Let me help you.”

Leaving France ~ Excerpt From A Woman’s World

Kinda just wanna makeout right about now

Most of the time

I feel as though

The universe is testing my resolve

Because every breeze

Whispers your name

And every raindrop

Sounds like your laughter

And every shooting star

Begs me to wish for you

But i do not

For i know fate has a cruel sense of humor

To be a writer

Is to watch

Ink splatter like blood

& People scatter like shrapnel

To know that

Pencils are prayers

Pens are promises

& that poetry books

Are filled

With dying flowers

& wilting words

As I watch you leave and in turn, hold my breath as the possibility of something beautiful fades away, I become sure this is what I am truely greiving. Not the loss of this temporary happiness but the more permanent hope it held. And I think, yes, I will miss you but I will also miss the me I could have been with you if you had just waited. Let the tears crystallize and let the lip stick stains set. And I wonder if one day you too will look back on us and your heart will shudder in recognition of everything we could have become. In reverence and longing for all things lovely life might have spun itself into for us. Perhaps, someday, you will look back on everything we were and know what I know now: that we could have been something beautiful if you had just held on a little longer.

~Excuses for missing you~ T.R.

She was simply lovely the poems say. But she was not simply anything. And that is why i loved her. She was complex and interesting. She was unique and beautiful. And she was lovely but not simply she was a complex sort of beauty.   

Ghost girl