I write things about us as if we exist.
Long drives with the windows down, music blasting.
You with your hands on the wheel.
And me belting the Red Hot Chili Peppers
by your side.
Not speaking in anything but song and smiles and short glances,
for hours of road.
I write about you as if I met you
years ago, or yesterday.
About how it feels when you pick up my hand,
kiss the back of my shoulder,
as you walk past me in the kitchen
where I’m making something for us
that I have no idea how to make.
About the way we sit and talk
and hug really long after a misunderstanding.
I write about us walking,
About deep things—and funny things,
and about sports, too.
I write about every day getting to know each other more,
in tiny sliver-sized amounts
that amount to everything.
I write about you—
not as a dream.
I write about you realistically.
Because I’ve already fallen in love.
This is what happened to me
when I let that place inside of me open
where all of life exists.
This is what happened when I embraced the sweet serenity of my solitude.
I met you.
The one who’s out there walking,
on your journey.
Discovering and uncovering parallel truths to mine.
I feel your steps as I write.
And I smile.
Close my journal at the coffee shop,
And step out into the world
Not one ounce of lonely
as the night sky wraps me up in her stars,
fully aware that I may have a few more stumbles left.
And also ready to bump into you.
And beginning writing, again
about us existing together.
Author: Jaime Lauren Posa
Image: Author’s Own
Editor: Travis May