[The room wasn't lit at all, because there were throngs of hands holding white candles that shined so brightly that the whole room may as well have not had walls... I passed through hordes of people, many I knew, who for the first time, acknowledged my existence on a footing that was equal with the rest of them...

This is what you do to me.] – (author’s name withheld)

I will.
I’ll wait.

I meant what I said. I’ll wait. Here, today, in the halogen backwash of this morning’s unspoken aftermath, I will, I’ll wait, so bring on, my love, the cold, still air of your potential debris and I shall gather and keep each silent vow like Autumn’s wind-devils cradle the scattering leaves.

I meant what I said. I’ll wait. There, tomorrow, at the stillest of points between past and bright future, I will, I’ll wait, as the notion of us crests like an ambient wave and then circles the stars with the lightest of breath until Heaven’s fine hairs shiver up on its neck.

I meant what I said, I’ll wait. Wherever, forever, until time’s mechanisms cease their incessant tick, I will. I’ll wait, and if I do this all right, and I plan it all well, you shall remember that room with the fading view and the hundreds of people whom you barely knew, bright and alive in that tempest of flame, and then forget them all to the music I make.

I will
I’ll wait.

Catch up there.

Life is…well.   It’s life.

Aidin. 

I’m in the new home but it appears as if parts of my computer are missing.   My keyboard and mouse, to be specific.   I’m looking, but it’s Christmas and there is so much to do.   Last week was eight million sugar cookies week.   Well, not eight million, really, but damned close.

Right now I’m at the local library.   Just checking in to let all of my friends know I still exist. 

I’ll be back.   Swear.

 Much love;

Aidin 

Much love;

Aidin

New England, it is.
One night and a wish.
My hands in your hair.
Your hands on my hips.
The friction of denim.
Cotton sparking in black.
The thrill of the heat.
The arch of my back.
A weakening of knees.
A shiver of skin.
Just open your life.
I want to walk in.

Yeah.  Not dead.   Living.   Reality kinda living.

Family emergency but all is well.   I’ll be back.  Eventually.  But, for right now…

Living.

Dearest man of my heart;

I know that words from me are as insubstantial as smoke.

I know that my promises are one shade of purple short of black for I’ve bent and broken far too many.

I know that my need for you is an iridescent vibration of truth.

I know that I feel you, crsytalline, at my very core.

I know that weeks might go by without word from you but when that silence breaks it’s like the fertile smell of soil beneath a chrome-yellow sun.

I know that I taste that welcome sound of you like a flavor of air; hot, like sun-scorched blacktop.

I know that I long to be saturated in you; taken into the darkest of your waters until day sours towards bitter twilight.

I know that one day we shall dance beneath cotton sheets, graceful as starlight at the edge of night, for we, you and I, are meant to be.

I know that I love you.

Now tell me, love, what do you know?

Wait there
for the moon-silver landscape.
Wait there
as it pulls all shadows east.
Wait there
as the night floods with crimson.
Wait there
as the leaves sweep the streets.