You've given me words. More appropriately, you've given me back my words. The days and weeks grew stale in my memory, in my imagination, and the rich, verdant worlds grew dark and drab. The endless plains replaced with stretches of grey desert, dead grass and wasted trees. The desiccated husk of a world. The dried up dust of a man.
I'd forgotten the sound of my own pulse. The feel of my own laughter on my tongue. I replaced it with a dry, wracking cough and that old irrational loathing.
Sometimes, we just need a reminder. Sometimes the universe needs to bend away from the dark.
The air is warmer here, and perhaps my mood with it. I've always felt that my chemistry was tied to the earth somehow. I revel in the thunderous temper of a lightning storm. I relish the clear skies and gentle breezes of spring and summer in this part of the world. I prefer to think that it had something to do with you, and those words. Something to do with a picnic, or a secret place, a strange hotel room and a stolen kiss. A missing winter coat or a quiet office.
I don't miss the stark, blank loneliness of it. The bone-deep weariness. The utter, hopeless stretch of road that sprawled out into the distance. The flat, featureless distance.
Today, I feel prolific. I feel breathless and empowered. I feel endless, like deep emerald forests.
Today, I contain multitudes.
Gratefully Yours,
-S.R.
