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The next time we meet

I imagine the next time that we’ll meet. It will be unexpected. It will come out of nowhere. I will be in a bar, in a ballroom, in a hall, in a train station, and I will feel a tap on my shoulder. (I know, I have no doubt of this, that you will pick me out of a crowd before I can you).

I’ll turn around and it will be you.

You will glow. The sun, even if we’re inside, even if it’s the middle of the night, even if we’re in the middle of an ocean, it will glow behind you, will set you on fire, will set us on fire because this will be impossible, us again, sharing the same space, breathing the same air, in touching, in kissing distance of one another.

I’ll whisper your name.

You’ll whisper mine.

And I’ll touch you, touch your face, hold you close, like the most delicate of crystal things, like the most precious of objects, because this won’t be real, this will be a dream, and I won’t dare let it turn to a nightmare, I won’t break this gift from the universe, I’ll cherish it, cherish you in a way I was never able to because I didn’t know how to, didn’t know why I had to, didn’t know I could.

You’ll ask me to walk with you.

(I’ll say yes. I’ve always said yes.)

And we’ll walk on clouds, on waves, on sand, on the stars – we’ll walk, and walk, and walk—

And never let go again.


About Quinn

In it but not of it. A reformed player, now watcher. Speaker of raw truths.


2 thoughts on “The next time we meet

  1. love this

    Posted by erikafuego | 16 December 2013, 1513 EDT

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Raison d’etre

"Raw," she said. "I want something primal. I want something bare and naked. I want you to give me this life raw, unbidden, unhidden, free, fair, and true. Can you do that? Can you do that for me?"

One may only try.

December 2013
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