Picture this: there is an empty space next to you at the table. You make it the shape of everything you need. Now you say hello. This is you at your best, also known as Your Strength, but you haven’t been properly introduced yet. You don’t know what it is, and you don’t know that it’s yours. You only know that you like its presence. You let it vanish as you keep doubting your power.
Or you walk to work, heels echoing on the pavement, a bit of warmth from bed still clinging to you. You take a seat on the bus and fall asleep to the sound of traffic. The night before, you sat at your desk, hoping it would knock on your door, take off its wet clothes and join you by the fire. Add a glass or two of red wine to the picture.
You were tired but couldn’t fall asleep, so you waited and waited until dawn. You felt frustrated, not to say exhausted. You were only just starting to get to know each other, and you couldn’t grab it and make it your own. You don’t know that finding your superpower isn’t like dating.
That it’s already in your hands. That you don’t have to wait for it to find you. That you find it by creating it yourself. All you know is that inspiration seems nice, but it left you without a word and you don’t know if you’ll ever see each other again.
Or a beautiful man smiles at you like there’s no tomorrow. He has perfect teeth, and when he laughs, you wonder what all the fuss was ever about—that fuss being your whole life until you met. Soon you are making out in the corner booth of a bar that you both decide is now your bar.
The light is dim and smoky, and he lets go of his secrets in your mouth, and you learn what his thoughts, dreams, and fears taste like. You’ve never known this much about another person before. He gently bites your neck, and you open your eyes again and see him in the half-light. You know that you’ve only scratched the surface before him.
Steam rises from both of your cups at the same time, and when he says, ‘Look, baby, these tornadoes are for you,’ you watch. You can’t stop watching what he’s showing you, and you don’t think about how long he’ll be there, because there’s nothing better than meeting someone who gets you. You just don’t know that that someone is you and can stay as long as you want.
You’ll know these moments as they pass you by. They’ll come to you, and you’ll feel like you’re coming home, one sweet encounter at a time.
3 thoughts on “Some Words, the Way They Look at You”
I’ll certainly leave the review a little later.
I just saw this post. I lost the urge to write (for the first time in my 60 years ‘writing life’) and even stopped attending our writers’ club meetings (virtual now). I substituted reading of two massive tomes on Berlioz in the hope that might produce a spark. Vol1 I wouldn’t recommend though I ploughed through it’s c500 pages; vol2 did the trick around p200 (of approaching 800), together with playing the Aurora performance of Symphonie Fantastique. So I haven’t been reading WordPress posts.
Fire relit, I wrote four short stories and added two and a bit final chapters to my novella (novel?), in which the 2019 Aurora performance features (though Symphonie Fantastique has almost been a third ‘protagonist’ from the first chapter.) There are several earlier chapters to write or to complete.
So, when I’ve finished the Berlioz I’ll get ‘Mindscapes’ and do another review. Congratulations on publishing it.
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Amazing, thank you! It’s becoming harder and harder to keep up all the platforms, WordPress included, isn’t it? I appreciate you taking the time to write to me, though. All the best!
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It is. In fact I have not posted on my grumpytyke blog for – I don’t know but a long time. I did do the preliminary ‘review’ on Amazon and as I’ve almost finished my massive read of the life of Berlioz I’ll get Mindscapes and do a proper review after I’ve dipped into it a few times. I’m looking forward to having it on my ‘bookshelf’.