who can no longer pause…

Dear Gentle Sir,

“Dime a dozen” doesn’t apply to you. Not when you change my sphere of influence. Not when you alter the way I understand “then” and “now” all while I am standing “here.”

No, you are the game changer. The one whose moans whispered through the line straight to my heart. You are the world-maker. The one who shifted the sky into earth and back again all with a simple smile and sigh.

You woke me up and I haven’t slept since.
What a terrible injustice it is to be the luckiest of the unlucky.
(But more terrible to not know it.)

Nothing applies to you that makes any sense. We haven’t evolved enough to know what this is, what time we are in between, us. Each forgetting is a remembering. We are the smooth, wet edges of the promises you never made.

Take my hand, let’s walk. There is no secret shame, no grave to dance upon. When you look for me, you see because you have given me the better version of myself; that is who I meet in the courage of your trembling arms.

This isn’t a happily-ever-after. It isn’t a fairy tale, a morality tale for the ages. This happening is the story of Becoming but how does one celebrate waiting? Beloved, we are the familiar, the failure no one likes to speak of—the rousing branch that endures its yearly bloom.

Lola xo

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