Purity

Flip a page and watch the paper caress your fingertips.

He who loves with purity considers not the gift of the lover, but the love of a giver -Thomas a Kempis

White. White walls, white dress, white hair. Blinding perception and forcing us into a beautifully cruel, silent submission. We know these three elements await us in life. White walls; we are welcomed into this world . White dress; we marry the sacred loves of our lives, our soulmates. White hair; the bittersweet symbol of a full life ending in a dream like state where we become a fragile state of nothingness. It’s scary to know we live only to die, our accomplishments that once meant everything are now just an empty legacy left for those to mourn and remember. Do we embrace it, fear it or try and run away from our impending reality?

Soul bearing, beautifully dramatic thoughts fill my feeble mind whenever we converse. Our hearts float together in an act of pure lust and love. Daydreams end and knowing this was real fulfils my numbness for another day. We are one, an entanglement of fear and previous heartache, neither one of us wanting to be burned by the embers of the love we’ve so desperately placed together. However, it does not mean this love isn’t real, nor poetically traumatic. It in itself; is an act of purity and connection playing on the heart strings almost like the chord of a guitar; melodies and harmonies are erupting for their souls.

Being in this state of unconscious decisions is like breathing in smoke from a fire. My lungs will fill then deflate but will have damage. Although, such damage attracts me, it invigorates my being. I need to feel the suffocation of his love, I need his warmth and his hands to run over my hair and stroke my face gently with reassurance. Pathetic, to need approval through touch; weak almost, but relatable to more than one naked soul. We all need this for fulfilment yet none of us are ready to admit it. Keeping this hidden in our deepest thoughts and fantasies.