sometimes when i think about it, it’s just you and me.
walking on the sidewalk, about a foot apart.
i see us from behind, slowly but surely striding towards our destination.
both of our hands reach to the middle and collide with each other’s in an awkward embrace that we try and play off as cool because we are are too afraid to speak.
my nails are painted black and my fingers are decorated with turquoise rings that were worn by women generations before me.
i chose black because i don’t really like any other color on my nails.
it also might be because there is a dark and edgy side of me that only seeps through to the small parts of my being.
your hands are strong and lean.
maybe they are tattooed, maybe they are adorned by silver rings.
i’ve always had a thing for punk guys, ya know.
we turn to each other and the sun hits our faces.
laughter and smiles are the language that we speak.
but i never see your face- because i don’t know you.
i imagine meeting you in the most obscure of places.
at the denver art museum, while roaming the streets of Bangkok or Rome, or in chemistry class.
i don’t know you yet, but i am sure that when we meet and our eyes lock and we exchange a simple smile, we will be oblivious to what lies ahead.
you will meet me where i am, and will be woven into my journey.
simply along for the ride, some might say.
we will act a little too crazy as we spill our hearts out and vocalize all of our dreams- some that contain each other and some that don’t.
because at the end of the day, we all have a past, a present, and a future.
all of these things will be sewn together and you will be a part of this beautiful mess.
so i will wait.
i will wait for the moment when we run into eachother (whether that be metaphorically or literally) and i will become a part of your story as you will mine.