As I stand here gazing out my window at the evening sky, clouds burning red, mountains a rosey pink, trees and fields fading in the night, stars winking into existence, landscape disappearing, making way for the dancing auroras and the moon partially clothed in her full splendor, my mind drifts.
I wonder at possibilities. Could it be possible that you could feel the same way that I do about you? If I left this all behind and made my way to your part of the world, would you stare into my eyes and take me by the hand and lead me to where you and I can truly become us? Would I be welcome there?
I look into this possible future. It’s one where you and I sit side by side, wrapped in a heavy blanket watching the rain smudge our view; our fingers curled together. It’s one where we share a morning cup of tea or coffee, discussing nothing and discussing everything. It’s one where you reach across to wipe my many tears from my cheek and murmur living words into my soul. Where I help keep you grounded and sane and do battle with your dark demons, chasing them away. Where I stand watch as you lie sleeping, protecting your heart as you dream vulnerable.
It’s a future where we lay together on our bed, sharing dreams and visions and deepest fears while cuddled up together, arms wrapped about one another, legs tangled, hearts beating as one. Where we make passionate love and satiate carnal lust and moan and sigh and completely fulfill one another.
It’s a future where we laugh over a ruined dinner and struggle to pay bills and walk in the rain and move beyond hurt pasts and teach each other to fly and pick one another up and complain about the neighbors and cry together and laugh a lot and read one another’s poems and hold each other tight and fight fiercely for Us and live out our lives united.
I search the heavens for an answer. Could this be our beautiful future? Or would you take one look at me, close your eyes, and turn away? Still I look. The sky begins to lighten, stars quietly slipping away, the moon has long set, saving a place in the air for the burning sun to rise. And still I wait. Wondering. Longing. Drifting.
tara caribou | ©2017
Writer and Artist
a collection of short poetry from an autistic mind
Poetry, Photography, and Thoughts
The Lies in the Skies Exposed
"When I am writing, I am trying to find out who I am..." --Maya Angelou
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