Not In Sotres

I want to see Spain.

I want to go on a walk with you and talk about things I can’t find the words for. You are a calm, still center; a church with crumbling walls, tucked far away. I would find you when it’s raining. You wouldn’t need to say anything. Neither would I.

Sometimes I feel like my truest self when I write to you.
Other times I feel like bone and rust and soul. Like something terrible I imagined when I was a child.

I have to convince myself I’m not real.

You are an old friend I never had.
I am just a memory you can’t remember.

I want to see Spain.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: