When you love hard, but you’re a gypsy…

April 8, 2015

at 2:16pm, we casually strolled an open sidewalk in a latin suburb southwest of LA. with interlocked hands and synchronized steps. we walked with no destination to slow down time. any onlookers knew we were parting ways. they knew I was passing through. my bags labelled me as an international traveler with ID tags still attached to them from my previous voyage. I had placed my bags in the backseat as we loaded your car to head back to the city. I wanted to make a smooth exit with perspective that cloaked my heart. although, I wasn’t sad, detaching a bit seemed fitting. having my bags next to yours along the ride in the trunk seemed too connected. I hoped you weren’t offended by my shift in emotion on the ride back from our weekend retreat. this retreat had been a magic carpet ride with you and was either having a layover or was ending. I didn’t want to have feelings that I thought were too heavy and intense, yet I couldn’t fight their lingering presence. adjusting myself with these feelings that I had never experienced wasn’t so easy to finesse. in the moment, I knew we’d probably create more memories. it just bothered me that I didn’t know when and how they would come about. you parked, signaling a prerequisite to our final moments. I didn’t know whether to rush inside or to open my body for you again to commemorate the moment with what I’d hope would be more adventure and less awkwardness. or it could have resulted in the complete opposite. should we even commemorate at all? with my bags on my back, we kissed and I might have numbed my feelings to let logic prevail. as I crossed the street to head in, I contemplated. I didn’t want to walk away from you without looking back & making eye contact as my physical drifted away. although it seemed cliche, I wanted you to know that you were worth every second, no matter how simple it may seem. as the path got too narrow and distant, I turned around to wave. it was yet another sentiment for me, and worth the step outside of my comfort zone. once again, I had taken off my cool for you. I would go inside my cousins’ house to find it empty. my memories with you were enough to fill the room and more, but still I thought to call you, stop you before you got too far away, and invite you in to create more moments and extend time more with me. in this moment, it was the thought that counted. even after days together with laughter to tighten abdominals and sex to burn the fat, I wanted more. I liked the fact that I missed you and longed to create more priceless moments with you. my desire to give you more of me, have more of you & more of us aroused me and inspired me. it also gave me an abundance of serenity, humility, and gratitude, knowing that our connection is exactly what I had been longing for. hours later, you would message me. “come on and let me in, I’m callin'” — a lyric. it was like an omen… a song that made you think of me, as I’m thinking of you and my invitation(s).

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