gwensarah and johanny
Part II- Summer
11:32 & 13 May 2002

...Part II-Summer...

Because summer is the smell of dry grass, the dull hum of a fan at night, and conversations which end only with dawn..

I get languid in the summer, my bones seemingly as fluid as water as I lie against crisp cool sheets with the fan softly droning somewhere on the fringes of consciousness...I think of you then and can almost feel myself lightly touching you in passing..in touching there is reassurance, of closeness, of being alive..and sometimes I find myself memorizing the details of movement, commiting to memory random fragments, of the ways light falls upon your cheek, the way your hand feels in mine, the timbre of your laughter, and the fine balance of strength and sensitivity..

Because someday, I will need to remember as I whisper goodbye..

But now, in this moment..you hold my heart.

I see you in everything, in the way the starlight shines to illuminate my window at midnight, in the whisper of trees, I see fragments of you in every joyous moment..and those of sorrow.

I think that this is what it means to love..

It lies in all the small gestures, reaching over to lightly brush my hand against your shoulder, in a glance, in the way the heart constricts to think of you.

And there lies a surge of emotion, emotion long ago thought to be a casualty of cynicism..equal parts compassion, empathy and utter unselfishness.

And fear..because there is vulnerability, because there is that chance of hurt and loss, because there is that helplessness that comes along with loving another person, the knowledge that you cannot protect them no matter how willing you may be.

Sometimes I want only to hold and protect you..other times it is me who wants only to rest my head against you, drawing comfort from your closeness.

And as I glance over at your sleeping form, I am awashed with tenderness and perhaps even a little sorrow..because I simply was not born the right person for you.

And I know that because there are times where am certain I was not born the right person for anyone.

"She wakes up on her own
and opens her eyes
the sun tries to cut through the pain
she still feels inside.."

I awake with tears still resting damply upon my cheek, for even this phantom for whom I have fallen in love for the span of a dream perchance lies in some other place, some other bed dreaming of things which have nothing to do with me. Even if he is real, I am not real to him.

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