Empty chairs, Full spirits

I look at the chair across this wooden table on my rooftop. And for a moment I pretend that it were filled with my beloved. 


But right now as it stands, it’s an empty wooden chair. It’s old and it’s partially broken.

And as lonely as that might seem to be. As lonely as that’s often made me, today — it doesn’t. 

There’s a calmness in my heart. There’s a lift in my spirit today that is nourished by the sun rays beating down on my chest and legs. Sunbathing in my lingerie. I feel the heat on my palest skin. And it warms just like a body would. 

It doesn’t mean I’m sitting here imagining what you might be — as I often do — instead I don’t care what you might be like or how you show up. Instead the romance here lies in the way I live. The way I live with conscious knowing; you are here. You are here with me. Today you are here with me. You must be. For, without you my heart couldn’t possibly feel so complete.

Not always made by physical, tangible presence sometimes it’s another kind that we are seeking. Of someone, of some place. 

It’s more like the presence of knowing that holds our gaze. 

And today I feel my lover sitting there, even though there is no true embrace. 

I can’t help but think that my clarity in this moment is for holding on to memories I will share with you. They are part of the stories I will tell you. The stories we will tell each other of how long we both have waited. Searched. Found. Let go of. Hoped for. Called out and remembered again. 

A final time. 

It is one of my deepest hopes that the one out there feels and retains with similar intentions; To share with each other at a later date. 

That they know as well as I do, they’ll be finding me someday.