Alysson writes me sometimes.
She never writes much and there are long periods of silence between her words. But nonetheless, she writes me and it stops my heart every single time.
The first letter she wrote me arrived on green paper.
"Green—the color of hope—Pablo Neruda wrote all his poetry in green ink."
That's how she began the letter. She ends it a paragraph later by saying:
"A writer, a friend, a fighter, a feeler. You are seen, valued, delighted in and needed. The world and those of us in it, need who you are."
She handed me this one night last December.
I teared up for a moment, and then we fell completely into each other.
Ecstatic feels like an understatement for how I felt at that moment.
She had captured my heart (and other parts of my anatomy) a few months earlier, but I didn't know how to express it properly.
Luckily, she knew what to say for both of us.
As I've mentioned on here before, that would be the last time I'd see her for the better part of a year. I think of her a bit like a deer or some other wild creature.
You might be able to approach her, but too many sudden movements and she flees.
I thought she was gone forever.
But in September: "I think of you often."
I wrote back. We chatted briefly. We met for drinks. She stayed the night.
I briefly saw colors that no human eye can fathom.
She told me I remind her of Christmas; of that feeling you get when you go down the stairs and see all the colorful packages and just can't wait to see what's inside of them all.
But then five days later:
"I'm endlessly thankful for you.
I'm sorry that I can't seem to separate any of my shit from my ability to be present...thank you for everything. Goodbye."
Which hurt. But was also fine. I got to experience something strong and passionate and pure.
A connection that I thought I was too cynical to ever feel again.
And I got to experience it twice.
Two nearly perfect nights is nothing to complain about.
I told her she knows where to find me should she change her mind.
She wrote back, wishing me "good coffee, rich friendships, poetry that challenges you and then makes you weep."
I wrote a little spontaneous poem in reply. I will not share it here.
This is about her words.
It was a goodbye though.
A goodbye that was endlessly grateful for my being able to have her to myself, however briefly it was.
I did not expect a reply.
But a week later, I received a poem. It started by saying my words were:
"unexpected and essential
Surprising and healing
Poetic and breathing and moving."
She said she had not planned on feeling what she did for me (but still she had to stay away). Instead she wished me:
"May more unplanned-ness find you
The best kind, too.
That surprise of delight, of companionship, of laughs you thought you could no longer birth from your belly.
The surprise of crisp air and fancy hats and bread with too much butter to be healthy, but just enough to make you feel like a king.
The surprise of a long embrace you didn’t know you needed, a spicy cigar at sunrise, a quiet mind when you lie down to rest.
All these unexpected and more, for you, my unexpected friend."
I didn't respond then. That seemed like a good goodbye and I didn't want to sully everything by clinging.
But then the #metoo campaign started and I digitally watched her not only confront her own trauma but provide such healing compassion to so many. She spoke at rallies about overcoming sexual shame and trauma. She did organized big community art pieces.
So I had to tell her she was a beautiful human. I told her I was proud of her. I told her she inspired me. I told her there was no need to respond.
But two nights ago:
"I cherish your words, and they are the breadcrumbs I have to lead me back to your heart, which I cherish most of all. Thank you for everything."
And I thought then, fuck it. Feeling presently less insecure than I ever have before, knowing it is true that I have come to a place with her where I have no expected outcomes, why not just express how I feel?
If she goes, she goes, she was already gone. But it she stays...
So last night, I wrote back. I will post my words this time:
"If and whenever you decide to follow those breadcrumbs, you'll find my heart is open to you.
Whether you only stayed for a minute or an hour or a thousand years, you could come and go as you pleased. No expectations, no commitments, no need for you to be anything other than your true and purest self.
Because it's you I want to explore.
I want to draw constellations in the galaxy of your mind.
I want to get lost in the depths of your heart.
I want to discover every different way your body can respond to the touch of my fingers, the brush of my lips.
I want to see you unguarded. I want to see you wild and lost in your own passion.
I want you to leave more marks on my skin.
And you may not follow these bread crumbs.
Maybe not now.
Maybe not ever.
Maybe only for another beautiful moment.
It's all fine. We will both go down many trails.
But I leave these bread crumbs just the same.
Because I cannot help but to want you.
And if nothing else, the birds and the deer will eat these crumbs in your honor."
Maybe someday she will write back. Maybe she won't.
But for now, I move on. Relishing the autumn sunshine and the home cooked food in my belly
2:40 p.m. - 2017-10-25
Recent entries:
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