To an old friend

Through tender kisses I’ll whisper into your nervous system, into the networks of your vertebrae and plant seeds for the next generation of young artists and lovers. Lovers and artists aren’t synonymous, before I found love growing from the echoes of your optimism I was insecure and lost in depths of depression. We’ve given each other hope in the insignias of our love. Reppin’ hard saying “fuck the world, we got each other’s backs”. Get on your nerves like brain fibers, I knew your buttons. I knew all your points. I will massage your chakras, I would massage your history. In you, in me, there was a rhythm. There was a different type of tempo. Damn, whenever we used to, you know, we had that rhythm, we had that synchronization like a pair of wings on the back of a butterfly. At times, we were passion in a cocoon, we were stuck in amber. You’re body tasted like skittles and Bailey’s Irish Creme. And I loved it, I thought you were everything I ever wanted. And I still do. Your body, fuck your mind. The intricacies of that labyrinth you called home. How memorably fantastic it was to wander through your thoughts. To sleep in your memories and hear your fantasies. I was mesmerized. Held you close by your thighs as we cuddled and I could hear the declarations of your breathing. Even your snoring was blissful. Tell me how you love now. How you live now. I’ve missed your composition. I’ve missed you body. I’ve missed your voice and your hellos. We used to represent hard for one another “fuck the world!” we proudly said like revolutionaries. But there was a rebellion I didn’t know of brewing in you. Left to fight alone, I miss you. “We got each other’s backs,” did we though? Did we ever? I miss you. 


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