We’re still here

I don’t know if there are other lives.

I don’t know if you and I exist in any other place and time – if the world is ours, or if we can only go so far in this together.

I don’t know if we exist outside of place and time. If the other you and other me are just ahead, and watching. Turning back – or catching up – or only ever passing, while our fleeting touch reminds.

(That it is still you and me. The better us. The only us.)

I don’t know if there are other lives.

But when I close my eyes, we’re still here. And this is just our waiting.

Beautiful Mess

 

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A place in my body

“This violence, and the constant betrayal Lucy describes, I can feel it in the pit of my stomach.

This place inside me, it seems to hold memories that don’t belong to me. There is rage here, deep in my cells. And fear, too, for what it means to be a woman in this world.

Sometimes, when Lucy talks, there is a place in my body that knows.”

~ Maggie, The Memory of Stars

Still I Rise by Maya Angelou

This remains our mystery

See, I could fill rooms and mouths to understand just what it was you did to me.

I could pour ink through my fingers, spill memories across the page until they form the neatest of lines. I could attempt to distill what survived, sift through the words to find some greater truth about love.

And you.

You?

I come up empty every time.

Desire? Love? (The chemistry? The alchemy?)

The way you altered me.

Above all, this remains our mystery.

inexplicable by Joanne Piechota
Image by Joanne Piechota