the insides of alice

i wonder if it’s because i stopped writing or i stopped being a writer.

youre a part of me now. you exist as a matter that flows inside me; a soft warmth in my lungs, a density in my bones, a fluidity in my blood exploring every vein, every artery. so much so that on nights when you must leave me, on nights when youre called to do things greater than yourself, i dont hesistate to kiss you goodbye because i still feel you there. you exist in a space deep inside my soul, in a place that had always been waiting for you.

don’t tell me where our love came from. don’t speak to me of it rising inside of you like the moon or being sent from another galaxy, created from the peace in the eye of a storm. it is not the perfect red apple plucked from a tree that blossomed in the dead of your winter. our love is not new. it is not the first of its kind, it does not revolutionize humanity's way of knowing love. it is not unlike any other. but that is not to say that it is not precious. it is a love that extends beyond us. our love is infinite, it existed long before our earthly forms came to know this planet and it will continue on long after our frames have turned to dust.

if there was some way i could explain the way your eyes dive inside my soul, i would. (JR)