over two years ago, in ontario, we sat outside a starbucks and took photos. goofy, stupid, ridiculous photos. so here we sat again, as is tradition now, in the little town i knew as a child, and snapped, snapped, snapped.
i can only remember seeing this in the movies, but you know when there’s a big, fat cord of wires and it has been cut and so electricity and sparks are flying out of it? and it’s this untamable, flying thing that whips around unpredictably?
that’s the only equivalent i can think of to describe her.
she’s this captivating and wily and outrageously beautiful thing of a woman.
we sat at a picnic table under a tent of leaves and she laughed and i cried and i laughed and she, well, no she didn’t cry.
but in her presence i was acutely reminded that it is for very few people that the heart is safe.
it is for very few people that one will go down flights and flights of spiraled stairs to crank open a heavily guarded, dusty door way in the back, the one brooding under a weak spotlight…and to let someone else in.
to the places that are shot full of bullet holes or malnourished or nearly extinct. to the shelves full of all the sentences you wish you could say if judgement wasn’t around.
when someone can stand at that door and still hold your hand? hell. never let them go.