Typings Many, Typings Not

It’s neat how we can go in and out with the tide of our writability.
I’ve wrote every day of March practically and yet there were months prior I did not.
I lay in bed now with ideas for posts popping into my brain like a popcorn machine on a wicked fast forward theme.
Months ago, I couldn’t even come up with a post once a week.

Neat, huh.

 

Drops

The drops clung to the bell
with stubborn quality they launched
to one another
trying to stay.
with bigger drops they thought
it would be a stronger force
but no,

it only made them slide quicker,
their weight
enough to pull them right off the edge.

More does not always mean stronger.

I Want to Tell you These Things

I want to tell you that the chimney here at my Dads, caught on fire the day after we closed our doors. You used to be a firefighter. You would have known just what to do.

I want to tell you that I looked for the Easter Hat you made last year for Z. And that I couldn’t find it, no matter where I looked.

I want to tell you how badly I want a doggy like the one we bought together.
I want to tell you how much you taught me.
To tell you that when I openened my chocoalate yesterday, a piece of chocolate shot up and hit me in the eyebrow.
I want to tell you that I have a cardinal clipped to my desk. Your favourite bird.

I want to say that I go in waves of happy and of sad. That I get bold with my confidence, telling myself,” I’ll find someone else, I’ll find someone else’. And then get whooshed into a whelmy sadness ocean,’ you were everything, you were everything I needed.’

I want to tell you that I didn’t do the big thing that you think I did. You won’t believe me, but everyday, I want to tell you that. 
I want to tell you that I finally finished reading the book I got from the librairy with you in October last year.
I want to tell you that I’ve stuffed all my lingere in the back of my bottom dresser drawer and as I put them in there I said outloud, ‘ won’t be needing these anymore- not until you want me back’.

I want to tell you that the visual of your eyes is locked into my head and it pummels up my heart sometimes and pops out of my eyes.

I want to tell you that I still am very close to you. That you’re with me everywhere I go.
I want to tell you all these things you wouldn’t believe, but that are the beautiful gut truth.

I want to tell you that the shirt you gave me that last day, is now in a plastic ziplock bag beside my bed and I smell it everyday. It is the last thing I smell before I go to sleep.

I want to tell you that I keep looking for your truck to pass by my work.
I want to tell you that I took a picture of your license plate the day I dropped it off at the repair shop. So if ever there was a look alike truck, I’d be able to tell it was you.
I want to tell you that I walked by the tree we climbed together on our first hangout. And cried.
And laughed.
At the same time.

I want to tell you what Z says about you and how it always makes me tear up.

I want to tell you that my heart is full of you. That looking for anyone else is so far from what I want to do or am in the position to do.

I want to tell you that I have a 400 dollar ring on my dresser I bought in February for you. I want to tell you that I’m going to return it; not just because now is not a good time, but because I found one that you will love more.
I want to tell you that we’re supposed to be together.

But you already know that.