Heart of The Wind
I miss sitting in my bed,
staring at the wall,
to watch you looking back at me.
I miss looking at the perfect structure that was your face, but mostly,
I miss that smile that even through glass,
could still shine and make my heart melt and my hands tremble.
I remember how well I had memorized that picture. Your face was painted in my
your eyes sculptured in mine,
your lips carved to perfection,
like digital with an artist's touch.
I stare at the wall,
hoping to find you looking back at me,
anticipating that tremble,
but only a cold hard space stares back at me.
I remember at times when I had a bad day,
I'd come home in a lousy mood,
I'd avoid looking at you to make the effect last longer,
because I knew that once I looked at you,
once you looked at me,
it would all go away.
I miss how easy it used to be.
You were the scent in my air,
the feel under my touch,
the surface under my ocean,
the light within my stars,
the spinning orbit in my universe,
the very beat in my heart.
I lied when I said I was ready to move on.
I lied when I removed your picture from my wall
and packed you away like a piece of old worn garment.
I lied when I said I didn't dream about you that first morning,
or every other morning after that
and I've been lying all this time.
When I look at my wall,
I see the space where you used to be.
In my heart,
your picture is still there even though I lost the box I packed it in.
Your face still lingers on that angle of my wall.
I still come home mad sometimes,
refuse to let my sight drift there,
just to be mad a little while longer.
But the moment I look at that space and remember you,
it all just disappears.
I'm like the wind, and you,
the invisible portrait on my wall,
you're the heart in me.
You're the sound they hear whenever I'm passing by.
The warmth in the rays from the sun,
the echo of rain from the sky,
the blanket of dreams that hides the light at night
and the reason am still sane,
still.... forever yours.