Trouble of the Day Comfort of the Nighy
As the light of the passionately burning sun fall into the relaxed illumination of the moon, I count down the seconds until I get to see your face.
Your face was always so much easier to remember in the chilled breeze of the tranquil night.
That’s the only way I wanted to remember your face.
The night always provided a relieving feelings for us.
The world was asleep and couldn’t tell us we would never work because we are “immature”.
For a few hours the world was too tired to ask ignorant questions like, “Who is the man in the relationship?”
The stress of the world was no longer on our shoulders; it drifted away with the burning sun and let the freedom of the night course through our veins.
We lived freely in the depths of the night.
Some would say we were banished in the night.
We like to say we are at peace in the night.
We are at peace with each other.
Our love has always been seen as impulsive.
Same sex relationships are looked down upon and labeled repulsive.
I see it as heroism.
We show the bravery of a young child stepping foot into the uncertainty of the unpromising world they were forced into.
We skip taking small steps and dive head first into risks.
We act like the world’s criticisms don’t force their way into our promising future during the day.
But at night we can get everything off our chest.
We debrief and ponder on our ups and downs of the day.
We laugh so hard it catches the attention of the neighborhood dogs and makes them wish they weren’t limited to barking and howling so they could join us.
Our cries are so sincere that they almost become contagious, opening up long lost wounds that were pushed to the back of your conscious making you want to cry with us.
The night opens up our eyes so we can see through the heart.
The night enlightens our minds so we can read each other’s hearts, front to back.
The moon is an empty book and we are writing together night by night.
paragraphs turn into pages, pages turn into chapters, chapters turn into books.
I hope to read these books with you in the future, as we and admire how we conquered as much of the world as we could together at such a young age.
The privilege of experiencing your pureness is an intangible gift.
I’ve found that gifts that we cannot touch are the ones that come from the pits of healing souls.
Souls that have been distressed but are learning how to bounce back to their peaceful state.
The honor of you placing your soul into the depths of my heart is the most tangible gift I will ever receive.