Skip to main content

An Interlude To Forever


I wonder how your day was. I picture you according to the vivid visualizations you feed me exasperatedly. You scramble intently up the side of a helicopter, face grimacing, hands clenching down on life itself as you struggle to find some security during the climb. You laugh joyously with your new friends, the ones you feared you would never make, for what reason I can’t contemplate, your reasoning forever lost to my assumptions. Your hair whips back fiercely, stealing the light from the descending sun, the energy matching the fire in your seductive, ferocious eyes, and I long to bathe in that light another night. I remember the evenings we spent huddled around the warmth of a lit cigarette, dead to the world yet alive in our exile. Confined to base egregiously and unjustly for a crime you didn’t commit, you stood steadfast with inhuman grace and inspiring resoluteness, showing yourself to be stronger than I could ever be. You praised me for standing by you throughout the unjust ordeal, yet I beg you, where would I go? Half of my heart was stolen from me, dangled in front of me by its captors; my appetite agonizingly whetted yet refused satiation for weeks on end. My daily reveries take me on a welcome, enticingly nostalgic stroll along our memory lane, from gazing into each other’s eyes intensely while enveloped in moonlight to our illicit encounters behind locked doors, exciting the rebellious voyeur in me and the relentless nymph in you. My beautiful girl.
Time is fickle and aberrant, and each succeeding tick on the ever present clock stalking me of late is another strand of rope holding the guillotine of separation over my quivering head unraveling.  This morning I awoke with a start, and was immediately greeted by tears hovering over my clouded eyes as my vision resumed. I beheld you fast asleep, an angel wrapped in silk and satin, your breath the lapping waves carving away the stone and sands on the beaches of my heart, gradually freeing me from my own ignorance. Incensed, I traversed the residue of our debaucherously simple occupancy at the Vagabond, and stood in front of the marble sink. My reflection blinked back at me as if I was beyond reproach, cursing my weakness.  I splashed refreshing, cool water on my face, and readied myself to face the day. I gazed back at you longingly, my desire to return to bed and rejoin you nearly overwhelming. The early morning was frigid and bitter, and you radiated enough heat for both my weathered body and worn spirit. You always cajoled me for my uselessness in domestic matters, so in an attempt to atone, I packed the car. With each slight sound you would stir softly, whimpering or sighing before turning over and surrendering yourself again to a restful bliss. I worked diligently, packing our belongings in every available crevasse ergonomically. Satisfied with my work, I roused you, and was treated to an adorable angry glare. Rise and shine babygirl, even by the light of the moon. What better scene for Bonnie and Clyde to make their getaway?
I hold your heart delicately in both hands, and I handle it with more care than I give to my own well-being at times. I deliberate daily on how I will deal with the inevitable pain, the scalding burn of removal, and the overwhelming sense of returning alienation. I told you in the past that we were drifters by nature, unable to commit and hesitant to settle down. I know now that those were the words of a fool, blinded from a blessing by his own barbarity and insolence. I have found my home in the comfort of your arms, and have been redeemed with grand purpose by the merging of our broken lives. Forgive me for every indiscretion, real or imagined, your voice more soothing and salving than that of my own recalcitrant conscience. You’ve re-introduced me to the world I’d forsaken, one of companionship, partnership, vitality and love. My dark heart has been illuminated, and my countless shades of grey have eased back into their shadows, no longer prominent but scarcely present, only to appear when we both embrace the nocturnal and become reacquainted with the masks we once wore, the visages we were in danger of being possessed by with unnerving permanence. I’ll take you in my arms and breathe in your aura, so it may carry me through the loneliness and solitude, such is our depth, crossing the vast expanse of the open waters I know so well, and you will come to be acquainted with. Take my hand and let’s live out our lives before we must die, reborn into bittersweet existences. Two angels, one pure in spite of her amusing efforts to appear brooding and corrupted, the other fallen, doubting his own humanity and poise. Two lovers star-crossed at the crossroads, eternally reticent and unwilling to part ways, which we never will, especially in spirit.
You’ll read this and cry out in horrific spasms, wondering what brought such a torrential outpouring of emotion. The power of my feelings for you threatens to eviscerate my coherence at times, and I lay awake wondering why fate has brought you to me when I’m destined to leave again. To me this is a flashback of 2012, when the world was shifting into something abnormal, a chaotic abyss that would come to evolve into the greatest adventure of my life. If destiny has brought us together, only to pry us from the grasp of the other and toss us uncaringly and unflinchingly into the ether, then surely we will rebound and meet once again. We’ve already agreed on the specifics, and there is no need to rehash our private indiscretions for a public ravenous for gossip. I love you, and I beg you not to forget me, for you can rest assured you will never vacate the special expanse that you occupy in my heart. No matter what the future brings, hold tight to what we’ve taught each other, and ensure that we never lose contact, which is unfeasible anyway, considering that we are joined at the hip, figuratively and very soon literally by the blessing of indelible ink. I love you baby. Sweet dreams.

Popular posts from this blog

My Story Of Sexual Abuse

For J. Find peace.



The first time it happened was around the end of 1999. My Mom and my Aunt were busy prepping everything for the holidays, and my older cousin begged to babysit me. Looking back, though there was nothing that indicated what he would do to me, I now find it odd that he showed so much extra attention towards me. In the days prior, when all of the kids played whatever trivial games we dreamed up, he would go out of his way to ruin my fun. I remember one instance where we were playing Heads Up 7-Up or something similar, and though my head was down, he stopped the game and said that I was peeking at the other players, something banned by the rules. "No I didnt!", I protested. "Yeah you did, I seen you!", he'd reply mockingly. My two front teeth stuck out prominently due to a mix of bad genetics and awkward dental work, and I told one of my other cousins, in jest, that I'd gladly trade my teeth for hers. We laughed, until I heard him behind us.…

4 Reasons Why I'll Be A Vagabond In 2 Years

4 Reasons Why I'll Be A Vagabond In 2 Years

As my parole date looms and I prepare to muster out of the service that's cradled me the entirety of my adult life, I face the future with an uneasy trepidation coupled with my characteristic combative nature.
I've heard every excuse, tempting me with bonuses and transparent promises regarding where I could live next, to tales of woe and agonizing regret, detailing the life of a miscreant that fleed from the Navy, expecting to flourish in the free world, no longer bound by the constraints of military life.
Eager and cherry, they're invariably met with a crippling reality, sprinting head first into a shallow pool of filthy water barely concealing jagged, dangerous rocks and craters.
I'll take my chances as I retake the reins of my life, though, even this far out, I know that my path will hardly be traditional, and will probably offend some traditionally and civically minded elders.
I plan to drift, languid but controlle…

The Desert

The Desert



Dry air in a normally humid climate is not conducive to a strong immune system. The shock is sudden and violent on an unseen level, I'm sure.

I never thought I'd suffer from stifling congestion and repetitious fits of coughing while stationed in Hawaii, but I was proven wrong recently.

As I pen this, my throat, though healed and no longer reacting in an incendiary manner when forced to swallow, is as arid and barren as the Mojave.

My chest is harboring a veritable barricade of mucus, and each pill I pop, in hues of rose red, ocean blue and grass green, chip away at bricks of the stubborn, phlegmatic stowaways.

My nose is on the brink of suicide, and breathing in coats each gust of air with a Welcome Aboard package of sandpaper and gravel.

In short, I'm fucked.

Yesterday I spent half the evening limping around wincing, my side cramped by an invisible knife, present and piercing, jostling with each aching step.

Save for a few meandering sets and reps performed to…