Cassandra ૐ Lotus

To the person I've always carried close, even when she's halfway around the world.

How do we, or I, sum up a part of me?

I start with the statistics:

8 years, English class, projects,

the hibiscus drawings on your notebook,

the platter of strawberries your mother brought us.

Then, later:

the hours, days, months, years

spent at the coffee shop.

The sushi, the drives, the guitars,

the Talks:

the hours pouring out over styrofoam,

the grany coffee and tea.

The warm sunshine--inside and outside.

The times we sat as drivers, passengers,

navigators.

The future seemed so far away, so distant, so fake.

The music comes on and takes me back

and for a split second

I feel whole again.

Because it wasn't what it looked like

It was this whole-ness that

even in the darkest parts of my life

I clung to.

I prided myself, falling back to

this wholeness, the fulfillment.

It was those times we spend doing nothing

that made me feel so alive.

How do we, or I, sum up a part of me?