stop watching the dangling shoes and love thy neighbor with all you can give and be honest about what you cannot.

Distant stares. Long drags of a burning cigarette. Watching this Thursday night unfold in front of me, removed enough to observe without uncertainty. My body flopped on the edge of a windowless window sill, barely inside and just outside. Still, maybe even peaceful to the world but inside I was pushing out drops of sorrow, slowly pouring from my ducts to my cheeks and down my neck. The moisture of my sorrow mixed with the perfume dabbed around my neck created a sweet, sad aroma of patchouli, salt and sandal wood.

Fear for the preservation of my body, mind and soul, caused overwhelming sadness to erupt. Love has always made me cry, even in its purest and most happy forms. Love is strong and insists on emotion and laughs in the face of logic. Logic within love is possible, it takes practice, though. On this night I was unprepared for the thought process and only able to know my heart so dearly. I welcomed, with a weary soul, the emotional love and all the angst that it gifted me.

There was something else as well, something that just flopped over and went to sleep on me that night, something good and whole that decided to not be conscious. It felt like death and abandonment, whatever it was was good and left me! Sometime I find myself without, having misplaced the okay, not replaced, just misplaced it like an important set of keys. Knowing I may never be able to open what I needed to again, and i died a little inside.

So I sat and experienced old and new memories of love and its bitter grace. and I mourned the absence of the unknown good inside of me, half hoping for its return. I let the city walk all around me and near me and feel me that night, but took nothing from it. When you have nothing you have nothing, no more shame, embarrassment or fear exist. It was nice, the waves of emotion came and than passed long enough to feel just enough of nothing for just long enough.