You and I are wild ones with wild hearts.
Sometimes the fires inside us have to burn a little fiercer
to remind us who we are.
Last night, for the first time since I don’t know when,
we got down on the dance floor as time passed us by
and let us dance forever under low lights.
Some began as strangers and ended up as friends
erasing the distance between them.
Music had us high and free flowing
like rivers into each other in a communal act of self-love.
For awhile we were spellbound,
transported by the magic of a DJ mastering modern technology,
we fell back into living in a retro world
and I felt my heart melt because I am of course a retro girl.
Last night was my holy trinity;
music, family and a single shot of fiery rum.
It was wild thoughts, expressions of love and evidence of life.
Last night was poetic. Last night we touched the sky.
The truth about us is we are island’s compelled to connect
before our breaths run out.
Afterwards, outside and ensconced in the rhythm of the city,
a three quarter moon shone bright like our spirits
and shepherded us all the way home.
This morning my spirit is still dancing
while I’m trying to compose words into sentences from disordered thoughts to tell the stories about us in the world.
Before my lights go out,
I will try and try to string together millions of words into delightful sentences that burn bright and fill up the sky.
Writing is my act of self-love.
A compulsive, satisfying, sometimes infuriating —
but holy act of self-love.
