I stare into your eyes, your still, as if you’re a photograph. You seem so rugged, your hair, course harsh lining your face. You stand, you hover above me. I feel safe, when my body is screaming to be apprehensive. You stand looking down, your eyes never break contact. You say “It’s okay” in a tone of security, yet so gentle and quiet, it’s as if the words didn’t want to leave your mouth. Your take your long, strong arms, and your wrap them around me. As if you want to comfort me in appearance, but in your heart you just had to be close enough to press our bodies together. I take you in, slowly. You roll into my face like a cloud of smoke; I inhale you, and feel you as your course through my veins. You become like the blood, shooting into my heart. You inhabit the heart, as you take control from the inside out. And I can feel you, as I breathe back out, smoke rolls from my mouth. A kiss, has never been so mysterious, and yet, so intense it shook me to my core. You back up, your arms swing back, bad posture, but it appears as if you’re warning all the males nearby. You stare, neither of us speak. The intensity I feel radiating from your eyes, seem to have control. I fear no words I say will be anything in comparison to what we have between us. Your long fingers switch as you close your hands, and await a word from me, any word. But alas I cannot speak, as if my mind a new born babe, cannot fathom any word in any vocabulary known to man. You pull out a chair, using your body language offer me a seat. We sit, I know I must seem strange, a word must leave my lips, I fear if they don’t, you will disappear as quickly as you came.
“I have never felt someone kiss me in such a way before..” I spoke softly, my voice cracks as if I had just awoken. You chuckled, I remember you laughed as if I was being modest. “You sat there, the only girl in the coffee shop looking so sad. Writing in your notebook, with such..”
you paused, searching for exactly how to relay what you saw, into my mind perfectly. “As if any world, beyond this world, is where you wanted to be. I stood there, watching you for a several minutes, and had to come over. I didn’t plan on a kiss, but I knew I had to show there are things in this world that are worth your gaze.” You spoke it so poetically, I felt as if I had just been read the most beautiful poem, any girl could hear. I remember smiling back at you, as the man at the counter shouted your name, and you rushed off. It was so crowded that day, and I was still inebriated by you, that I Didn’t even hear your name.
Remembering this now, it seems like a dream. So many years ago, you having been that charming man in the coffee shop. The one who turned my world upside down with one short embrace. Do you know I returned to that coffee shop, again and again, just hoping to find you, Or learn your name even. I always hoped if I went there to write, that again, you would show your face. Come up and kiss me with that kiss of inspiration you gave me once before. You truly were a muse, in every aspect of the word. After that day we saw each other, I wrote like I had never written before. It changed me, but not necessarily away from who I was. It made me more concentrated, I was able to write much more vividly. I could have painted the world with the inspiration that embedded itself with in me. To this day if I contract Writers Block, all I need do, is return to that very spot. I used to swear I saw you in markets, walking ahead of me on the cold New York streets. I would walk faster, catch up, and realize it couldn’t be you. You wouldn’t be the type of man that would read those books. You wouldn’t be the type of man to yell crastly on your cellular phone. Often I wondered if you even would remember me, if we should see one another again. I wonder still, if I had the impact upon your life that you had on mine.
I think everyone that I allowed to hear this story, thought me to be of the insane. Maybe I wrote the story, and thought it to be true. But only you and I, among the thousands in this city, know it to be true. Perhaps it was a bit insane to hold out blind hope of a second encounter. Something inside of me wouldn’t allow me to let go. It wasn’t until many years later, that I saw the face, Walking into an office, for an interview about my upcoming book release, I dropped my notes. Pages flew all over, blowing down the hall way with the wind. One tall man, dark haired, broadest shoulders I have ever seen. Stopped in his tracks, knelt down and picked up pages. As he turned to pick up a few more, and return them to the rushed woman. That I saw your face again, and I remained speechless again. But determined to find a name for this man who had single handedly given me the best gift. A gift of hope, and beauty, in an unsure, sometimes cold city. Our hands touched again, and I said “it’s you.” Hoping deep inside of me, you knew who I was. Had you not, I was sure I would lose all the good, that you had done for me. “We meet again. Tell me is the world able to be gazed upon?” you said with that same intense poetry you had all those years ago. “It does, and thank you for sharing your inspiration with me. I must add it has filled the pages of many notebooks, and now pages of my book.” I said, wanting to sound as if I had it all together, when in reality I was shaking inside. “I had no idea, I’d been taken into such capable hands.” You said. “I simply must take you out, to celebrate. I really haven’t anyone else to celebrate this new book deal with, that could possibly be more befitting than you!” I said almost afraid that you would decline. “would could I refuse you?” you said with a smile “Im afraid I don’t even know your name?” I asked shyly “Its Anthony Defazio” you said, in an almost serene moment, while we shuffled down the hall way. -Jessi J
Philosophy Of A Borderline by
Jessi James is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at
jamesborderline.blogspot.com
