The way you were…

February 27, 2013 at 5:38 pm Leave a comment

Your accent: The luxurious way with which you pronounced every word.
Your knowledge: The fact that you knew a little bit about everything.
Your love for books!
Your willingness to tune into Wire Tap, to make me happy.

Your face. That of an angel.. floating above my head.
Your eyes. How they seem to absorb light, and reflect it; without having to give out any warmth themselves.
The declarative way you held my hand, through the countless parks you liked taking me to.
The way you couldn’t keep them off me.

Your berets.
Your fashion sense.
How you never tired to tell me what goes with what.
And never judged my ignorance when it comes to colors.

The stuff you taught me.
The stuff you cooked for me.
The movies you watched with me
[and liked]

The fact that i can count on your texting me all throughout the evening: whether I was walking through Belltown; shopping at Safeway; or sitting on the edge of my bed listening, half-heartedly, to NPR.
The fact that I knew you’d come, whatever day or time of night it maybe, if I told you u could.
The fact that I cound count on your always being interested.

Your honesty:
The fact that you lived your life on your own terms.
Your anger:
Which used to be my anger, before it was replaced by fear.
Your dedication –
to your obsession.

Our first [official] date; a cold evening at Alki Beach. The wine, the hummus and [the] Russian mafia.
The evening we smoked a pipe: Sitted on a bench in an empty Japense park, with nature and darkness for company.
The day you told me you thought you were my boyfriend.
– And how having me in your life was good for you.
That night I made you feel better after a debilitating day of rage – something about an agressive co-worker who won’t be agressive for long.

You were other things too
And significant others you weren’t
But those things you were
No, No, they can’t take that away from me.
You can’t take that way from me.

Entry filed under: Latest Posts.

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The blogger tries to think outside the box, or wonder why she sometimes can't.

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