This Christmas, there was no mistletoe to be found to paint us over with nostalgia and seduce our minds into rekindling our own bad romance. Still, you blew me one last kiss, and ever since, there has been a chill in my bones.
My whole body is a sponge soaked in the memories of our ghosts.
Just like them — your presence is a reminder of the haunting company
that still makes me feel all alone.
I have drowned in your Ocean one too many times, and you would happily stand by watching me drown a million more times if I told you we should still try — and waited in vain for you to throw me a lifeline.
Next Christmas, you might find — I’m nowhere to be found.
These days of our lives won’t come back around. Each moment is new — and we will spend a billion of them not being ‘me and you’, these are the changes we will grow through.
I close my eyes and note my soul is on fire, I let the Moon dance all over me.
I breathe in the whole damn world and hold it for four seconds, I breathe it out in four — three — two — one — discarding only what is useless for now.
In those serene moments, my vision is clear. 2020 will mark the oncoming years of me without you. I will swim in a space that emphasises the necessary metamorphosis between a million breaths and a billion — has occurred.
A space that saves room to vibrate higher and is a hostile environment to bad energy. There, I will welcome in and manifest — the harvest from watered flesh and soil. The first pages of a different ‘Once Upon a Time…’,
my beginnings of a new kind of love story.