one day, maybe a day like today, when the sky has swallowed grey and belched out clean, white snow, i will call you up, just like that, to belch my own odes of forgiveness and mercy, to tell you how much i missed you during these slow days –and how so many other things fell into grey shades that year, least of all the weather.
there will come a moment, a moment like this one right now, with the scent of rose and patchouli on my body, that i will call you, just like that, to thank you for being in my life, even if for only mere seconds on the larger cosmological clock
i will call to honor the beautiful smoke you left wafting through my soul, the most exquisite incense found resting on my tongue,
and it tasted like you.
i can still taste your memories as if they happened just a minute ago, to somebody else in a line at a grocery store somewhere, like that time we wandered through one looking for an excuse to be alone together.
there will come a year, perhaps a year like this one, when I am brave and strong and the bone marrow will still sing your name, and I will call you up, without warning, to tell you that your absence cracked me open; your presence did even more than that
one day, there will be a second, like this one right now, when every cell in my body will bend around the experience of you and complete these cracks, without which I would have never known my deep capacity to love, to feed my messy parts, to unfurl all of this into thankfulness
that yours was a love that taught me how to know myself, and it made me brave.
one day, on a day like today, i will call you up to tell you these things, and of all of the parts of me that broke into pieces that year, I am glad that you did some of the breaking.