sometimes all it takes is one snowy night with a view overlooking the city. that's all it takes - and you're in love. with a city, a night, a life, a love. one night climbing a snowy, slippery hill to realize how slippery everything is - and there need to be more nights, and days, like this. more cups of coffee overflowing into sliding down a carless street with people who do nothing but smile crooked smiles. the language of night is universal, and crosses time zones. cross more time zones. learn how to say "kiss" in more tongues. sometimes all it takes is one snowy night to make you fall in love with snow. to fall and laugh at the bottom. one breathtaking nighttime view of a city is all you need. everyone should be so lucky.

no one deserves a tragedy. surrounded by bloodshed and tears is not somewhere anyone should be. broken bones and ripped muscles are better as metaphors. tragedy isn't understandable, it happens without cause or reason. i can talk myself into believing most things, but physical hurt and destruction escape me. escape my words. i can't talk it away. no one can. no one should have to.

a beautiful setting and a gorgeous man do not a good story make. together, alone, they are a skeleton. the bones of life minus the meat. a beautiful setting, a backdrop of greens and blues is aesthetically pleasing but emotionless. passion does not lie solely in architecture, in swatches of nature. alone, it provides the outline to your story. and the gorgeous man is but only a single player. interesting for only so long. interesting until he's not.

good stories are comprised of more. dialogue, complex characters, motive, emotion, passion. extreme love, lust, desire, hate, disgust. a story worthy of your time runs the gamut. making you sad, so you appreciate happiness. causing heartache to highlight the heartsmiles.

a beautiful setting and a gorgeous man are but two parts to a greater whole. two bones in the skeleton. a colorful backdrop plus one character can only take you so far. not far. not far enough. one man can only provide you with so much. one facet of everything your good story, your great and complete story, needs. life can not be lived like a static character. unmoving, unchanging.

a good story deserves beautiful settings and a gorgeously good to you, good for you, cast. you were born to live in settings too beautiful for words with people who take your breath away.

don't waste that breath on just anything.

warm colors

ringing bells filtering through windows

dinner's soundtrack.

lulled to sleep

the hum of cars driving by

the sound of horns and late night passersby

punctuating dreams

making them seem more real.

late night

cold enough to be wrapped up

warm enough to only use sheets

warm colors everywhere

sounds all over, all the time

comforting

enveloping

filtering

lulling

dreaming.

warm air blowing through windows

warm air blowing in my dreams.

don't be sad for me.

i know i haven't found your happiness

but i am happy.

don't wish the best for me

out of pity

i have the best for me

in spite

of the sideways glances

and the reassuring embraces.

i haven't found what you have

but our maps were different.

mine led me to endless horizons,

of chasing the sun over the dateline.

i want to fall asleep and wake up

on the other side of the world.

wish that for me.

wish for safe travels and many departures.

don't be sad for me

i found my version of your happiness.

for now.

my map is still changing

i'm still chasing the endless horizon

and one day i'll close my eyes

fall asleep

and maybe my dream will have aligned with yours

you won't have to be sad for me any longer.

my veins will be your map, guiding you to my center. every ounce of blood in me runs through my heart at some point. follow the flow, find the source. my veins will be your guide.

i bleed and my heart beats faster, trying to stem the flow. rush blood to where i need it most, don't let me bleed out. don't let me bleed dry. my heart knows when i'm torn and works harder to stem the flow.

my body, like myself, is not perfect. i break. i ache. i pull myself together, sometimes i let it all go. my body is not perfect. i break. i am broken.

my body is resilient. i am broken, there are ways to fix me. sew me. repair me. i'm never beyond repair. not until i'm not. my body will eventually jump back. it is resilient.

my veins will be your lamppost, illuminating your path. a sea of red. the color of the flame to guide you on your way. deeper. further. down to my very core. my veins will be your lamppost. offer stability, offer light.

every ounce of blood in me circulates. it sees everything, goes everywhere. follow the flow and you'll see all of me. follow the flow, find the source.

my heart. surrounded by a moat of blood, an armor of bones. find my center, find my heart. drenched in my blood, embrace me. my veins were your guide, they never steered you wrong. in my heart, in my center, do right by your guide. do right by me. do right.

back before maps, beating hearts lead the way. warmth drew warmth. bodies on an inexplicable path, seemingly without destination, until destination appeared. blood follows blood. back before maps, we crossed this earth on scent. we all followed one another, just a few feet behind. with no one in view ahead, they thought they were blazing their own trail, but they were simply following a familiar scent. uncharted territory didn't exist. someone's been there and others followed - not knowing they were following.
back before maps - life was about catching up to those in front of you. about finding, reaching that connection. it meant that when you made it - you were worth being there. back before maps, beating hearts lead the way to the reason your heart beat. life's purpose, your reason was clear. it's too easy now, but we still manage to get it wrong. even with maps, we're inexplicably on the wrong path.