The great below

Sometimes memories come out of nowhere. In a pure world, certain ones would have been marked with guilt. In real life, there's often no sorry close enough to reach for. Then again, maybe it's better to stay pure of fake regrets.

A night like this pulls me out onto a dim porch, makes a spark in the darkness and points to the concrete jungle below. That's when the thoughts of him come knocking into my forehead. I don't know why and where they come from. I don't seek them, I swear. I don't want to lose the one I have in my life. I don't want to distance a close friend either. Sometimes I only have to picture the faces of those two to stop thinking these thoughts.

But there is something about him that I can not forget. It could be that contagious laughter at his own joke. It could be his sweet embrace. Or it could be the look that I felt on my cheek while deep into some random story, to turn around and meet his eyes. I still feel that look in a dream here and there, snuggling between our vibrant conversations or cutting into the silence that had no tension in it.

So is it OK to still have these thoughts every now and then? Sometimes I think, no, because the stakes are too high. And sometimes I think, yes, because I'm alive.

Image credit: kubica
Listening to Marley's Concrete Jungle