3/6/13

your heart + my heart



You cannot put a living, beating, sacred, beautiful, glorious heart on a time schedule.

Nor can you squeeze it into a quick, "I've got thirty minutes, what's up?" or add it into your oh so color-coded planner that dictates what you must do and who you have no time to talk to.

It cannot breathe in confided spaces or show its beauty in superficial small talk.

Hearts simply do not work like that.

A heart needs the unconfined space of you plus me plus a cafe where neither of us checks our watches. A heart needs your eyes fixed on my eyes as our stories intertwine into this beautiful labyrinth called life as we speak the "I understands" and "I will keep you praying for yous" and "Sweetie, you are lovely despite all that they may tell yous."

A heart needs to live in the poetry of the moment, the ebbing and flowing of run on sentences and e.e. cummings-like rebellious syntax as we muster up the words to express all that we've pocketed deep down inside our sacred hearts. It's the place where many likes and ums and I guess but I don't know come out of our mouths as we search for the words like a child on an easter egg hunt, wanting to find that golden egg, that perfect word, that sums up all we are feeling and wanting and needing and hoping.

And we try to fill the awkward spaces of silence that are painfully long even our hands outstretched couldn't mimic its size. And we desperately try to crush that voice that tells our hearts if we speak too much, if we speak what our hearts are begging us to say, we would begin to feel like we were stark naked, center stage, exposed to the world like a flower that stands alone in a field of dirt only to get trampled by the voices that try to convince us no one else is like you.

In a place where we feel exposed and extraordinarily vulnerable.

But is that not what our hearts long for? A place we can go, a person we can call, who says enough with the facade and fakeness and talk of the weather. Let's talk about what's really going on here.

Cause I don't want to hear about what you majored in college, I want to hear about your childhood dream, that burning passion that fills the deepest corners of your soul... and why you never chased after that dream.

I don't want to know how the family is and hear your normal response, "They are all fine" because we both know people only say that to make conversation. I want to know what keeps you awake at night, what haunts you like a phantom from your past, what guilt that eats away at you, which secret you're so scared of admitting you won't even whisper it to yourself in the wilderness.

I don't want to know about your cousin's new boyfriend, I want to know about your very first kiss. Was it awkward? Did you bump noses? Were there fireworks? Do you regret it?

Because at the end of the day, the conversation, the coffee date, when we both look at our watches and say "if I don't leave now I might be late" I want to know the sacred corners of you heart. Because maybe, just maybe, then you'll realize that you are not as alone as you think you are.


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