Will We Stay

By Hart Heiden

I am not a part of your box. I am not a clasp to your chain. I am not a stool for your kitchen. I am not to be left in the rain. I am not here to be a part of your equation, or your realization of your faithfulness, level of integrity or stabilization, or whatever your organization-stained my frustration. That is what my company does. I only seek justice. I seek out good friends and higher love. My only structured stipulation is in your active participation. I want no confusion, no anecdotes, or quick-witted orchestrations—other than what actually occurred. I seek no other qualification, but that you address me as a living being, that I’m heard, and no Mickey-Mouse games because we know the line is blurred.  I am a once-was, never-has-been, potential. A possibility of affectionate monster proportions based solely on your expectations escaped from trash-bin, cashed-in, sequential curbed cessations. Maybe you’ve got running-mates and candidates, but no I simply don’t. I fly alone. The reason I fly solo is well? Indicative with the distance held between us already. You should know by the way your mirror reflects your own appearance. I’m like the poster you put up on a wall dedicated to only one. You’ve got the glove-box dust called lust-gloss shuts, but I know of demarcations settling indicating much more of where you have sinned through your own triumphant expectations. Adulterations. Salutations in sexual permutations. And no, I’m not here to judge. As I stated before I’m simply only here to love; to assist with carrying around your bullshit until you recognize something smells. And the point at which I introduce dedication to your spells.  You’ve got no sense, no justification. No authority—until realization. But I won’t force you to look. I intend to live my life too and somewhat by the book; that high life of prime-time indoctrination, no time addressed til I’m inclined for anticipation; I stress on no less than seeds and fine wine; and undress.  You come up with a cross-hook left? Right mindedness captures me and keeps me blessed, but then when you step on me? I’m hyper aware and so I feel it. I’m not waiting around for your pitiful lies or severed lines like how it all happened platonically. It was a friendship that just got fuzzy. Startled. Stifled. Bluntly. Cuddly. Then, suddenly? Pillow-cases became affectations ambiance? turning seclusions into nighty-laces. I try to tie it all together to summarize all that I know—and mind you? This is all about me: I blend all seas and oceans then I go. I capture all currents and tides, I wind up blind to the eyes; and come across patches I bind up the weeds and dispatches so that nothing will scuff the surface but eyelashes; and we can lead triumphantly into opulence and prosperity-minded abundance heralded. Dreams awakened, I take the highest road ever considered, and the longest routes ever made possible by only wayfaring lovers like us just so I can get to spend that one more minute staring at your eyes stargazing; discovering for yourself what’s truly possible; your touch—and then if I manage to get you to think we are lost, somehow? I prop you up as captain of the ship and elevate it to let you look out .  The only cost is the time never spent with you by my side, no moment’s been leant, because I know that whenever we travel anywhere together we can always rely on each other for whatever it is that we need and we will always be re-igniting our strong connection. The sky’s looking hazy but my panic touched the ground resurrection. 

I will support you in doing all that you do and spend my time clearing away all the spider-webs you think you’ve been trapped in while proving that my world is the kingdom of ingenuity and Heaven’s only competition and we’re both the continuation of divinely thriving in. Continue onward, and upward, moving forward through whatever might remind us of our immaculate insignificance. You can take me anywhere you want to go. But just know this: I will be the only one here who has your back, hand’s down, categorically conclusive, one-hundred percent for every trip on track; or what ever journey; or elegant wayward dance. I know how you love certainty and security, but I also know that this physical life must come to an end at second-glance. I want you to know that if it is you to go first? I will be the one man screaming at the top of his lungs to every member on deck and directly at your gurney to let everyone know to check and that there’s still a realistic chance. 

There are no mistakes ever made along the way. Nothing in this life is meant to be received in foul dismissal of the gift. Another moment with you is all I need; and just the lift.  Everything is perfectly imperfect.  I planned and something else I meant to say: you’ve landed here before and done this work and it’s all okay. And I know is our perceptions differ from each other in a way. But this time is another unique moment meant to challenge you and us today. I know that there’s growth enough for both of us to want to stay.

-poewem

Donate