I have always struggled with my self-description. I am a lot of things, and sometimes I am nothing. I am a lover, a warrior and everything in between. I fly and sometimes slide between extremes. I am very social and I am also a loner. I am timid but I am also very brave. How do you put a breathing soul in the mere capacity of words? For now, just call me Jean.
When you lose someone dear, a part of you dies too. Sometimes you drag that dead weight around for the longest time and it eventually drowns you. Loss is inevitable and letting go is somehow serene.
The outline of her breasts
under the pale orange light looked like a
a bird gliding against the sunset sky.
The raindrops slipped through
her hair into her face
against the holy smoke emanating
from a temple from across the street.
He had never seen her that way
but now he had his hand
at the back of her head
as his fingers traced her silhouette.
She hid her face in his shoulders
she was on her toes
as his fingers reached down
she lost her footing
and he held her.
Was this love, she wanted to know
but of that he seemed sure.
She traced the water drops
from his forehead
as it dropped from the sharp end
of his nose
splashed it into thin air.
He held her against the railing
and soft kisses
turned to burning fire
and sparks flew
matching the intensity of rain
and as the world came to a halt
flames raged against the tide.