Cotton Candy Skies

Another beautiful day to be reminded that you, of all people, exist.

So many days spent looking at all the things that have been wrong, and not enough basking in the beauty that you are. That our soul bond is. But that’s okay, I’m still learning.

Not just about the things that you aren’t, but even more about all of the parts that make up the soul you identify yourself to be. The good, the ugly, and everything in between. I’m too much, I know, I could write journals and journals full carrying on about everything you have been to me in my life, and it wouldn’t be enough. I do not meet souls like you every day. Every week. Every month. Every life.

I look at cotton candy skies and I want to tell you about the color of your cheeks and your eyes, and about how I think of you whenever I make tea because I saw you order it one time on a Wednesday.

I am not in love with you, because I have boundaries, and I make choices, and I get to decide who you are to me on a day-to-day basis. But your soul resonates with me infinitely and I cannot deny how close I feel you are to me at all times. It does not have to mean anything at all. Only what I choose for it to mean. Feelings are feelings, and nobody tells me what they mean but myself, and it can change daily. Hourly. I am honest about feelings. I am dishonest when I use society’s labels.

You are not mine and I am not yours. You are someone I would never be with, and someone I want to spend every waking minute with, you are a profound, insightful friend, and also just some nice person I met once in a coffee shop. I don’t always understand the labels or boxes, but I understand that feelings flow along the spectrum and that life isn’t one thing or another.

Or even how sometimes I completely understand where we stand, and feel so sure about how we behave with one another, and then in another moment I am curious about you, completely mystified and pulled in by the mystery that is you and the endless places you choose to end up in.

Above all, though, I think of your giggle. It is something you’d hear from a child at a carnival, walking happily along the way, eating cotton candy. It is the thing I desire most from you. It would make me the happiest in the world to hear it from you at a soul level, next to you or from a distance, in your life, or cut away. I feel if I were to die today, it would be included in my version of heaven.

As long as someone is hearing your giggle, looking at your cheeks, and your eyes, and thinking of cotton candy skies, that is all I care for.

I imagine you taking a picture of the desert sunset, and talking on the phone to your best friend. About all you have done, everyone you’ve ever loved, all the places you’ve never been, and the ways that you’re healing. And giggling.

I am not in love with you, I am in love with the idea of you being happier than you’ve ever been.

You mean the world to me. You always have. You always will. Regardless of where you or I end up, or what we choose to express with words and feelings that don’t always tend to make any sense.

I am not scared of being real about you here. You know me and how I operate. You know this is just me being the way I’ve always been. Dramatic. Creative. Poetic. Authentic. Romantic. You’ve always allowed me to express it all so beautifully.

Thank you.