For the Spider that Didnt Weave it’s Web

It has happened.

The sweet-bitterness of it.

The smiles and tears, the hugs and walks in different directions for the last time in a long time. The pausing to look back and smile, and wave, and wish, and smile. Finding the strength to keep walking, away. I’m shocked to say it was not a sad situation. I now know what they mean when they say Love doesn’t hurt.  In it’s simplicity it is beautiful all the way round.

The sweet cotton has left a bitter taste in my mouth. The aftertaste of a thousand lifetimes. The heartbreak, the distance, the reason’s I no longer seek for they are not purpose.

It has happened. I’m okay with it.

[Looks at stars] There is a super human who lives amongst us. He does not know how to not be.  He howls at the moon and chants in-between breaths. His lips move like steady humping between lovers after war. The soft kind that still left a mark here and there,  His words caress skin and sometimes scratch the surface just so you remember them. Etch them into you and keep them.  Listen constantly as you read the marks and carry them with you. They will surround you like diamonds in the sky. You can find the ones with your name and admire them. But don’t be selfish; put them back up there, sharing is caring. His eyes are magical too. Gazing at stars through binoculars; . They had volcanoes erupting into waterfalls.


[looks At water] I did not know how to swim; he kept me floating without burning me. I could see his world. played with his lava sculptures and helped him mold a few. He would place his lips against mine and I could swim when his breath was mine and mine was his. He calls it a prayer.  Sometimes, we would pray with palms clasped by our sides.  Other times they would be pushing into backs to bring closer.. and closer.. Togetherness. Where two or more were gathered She was there waiting to bless and oohhh, how She did.


[looks at trees] When you think of him, think of a thunder cloud in the shape of cotton candy. Think of a lemon dipped in sweet goo. Think of love wrapped in skin and held together by bones. He is good to me. Even in our non togetherness my skin glows and feels pretty. I know I am beautiful on days when I feel like no one should see me or feel me… do you get me? If I were a tree, he would be the one I would long to have sit beneath my shade. I would listen to him hum a song when he did not sing it, and in his silence. My roots would tap into his soul to try and reach his thoughts. His fingers, sprawl against my bark and my branches will shiver and shake and I will praise God in those moments when heaven doesn’t seem so far. With hands above me… even in my silence. After he is gone and the wind no longer whistles through my leaves. I will be still and know there is God. I will say a soft Prayer for Her to hear. To send someone else to sit in the same spot he sat in. I’m just trying to pass the love disease.


[looks at art] He lives on. He leaves imprints, little scripts and letters here and there to read and smile and if you cry, it won’t leave a lump at your throat just a bunch of angel wings trying to be freed. Let them fly. Use your words. And those wings will carry you to worlds you have thought into existence; would I let you experience that? It is not my place to say but my Dear. Here… Take and taste of this.  Savor it. Savor it like that meal you don’t usually have but you love. The one that leaves you wet and sated. That makes your soul sing that song as old as the idea of time. Let it make you speak in tongues or leave you speechless. Become mute and know sign language in its depth, so even the hairs on the back of your neck know how to say thank you and kiss me again. Right there.. Close your eyes and read pores like they are Braille. Dance, laugh, don’t forget to breath, take it all in, hold non of it in. but don’t remember to forget. If you do, don’t panic. . it’ll come back one day.. in a painting, or picture, a poem, or song. Someday someone will say your name and the tilt in the pitch of their voice will remind you of his voice. Don’t be sad.


Then when your souls begin to drift in different directions, if you believe in fate and find it was not meant to be, Don’t be afraid to embrace the feeling, wear it like that new chain; The one with half a heart. Give him the other. And tell him you won’t forget him. Try not to, I know I won’t. and he? He will keep you with him. He will always have arms enough for a hug and heart enough for love.

It radiates from him. His world is a bubble of the concept of it. Get a grip on it. Learn to live in it and you can drag a bit of it into your world and create your own.  You might fall into sync if you listen and feel him. He is constantly calling.


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