Unwavering sight

it is often that a piece sits gathering dust, mostly forgotten, even the near or mostly finished ones. i think i have actually lost more then i have, or will have ever, finished, but that is part of the beauty of this craft. the thoughts never truly leave you, even once they are put on paper. though the precise articulation may fade, the feelings and messages find ways of cycling themselves back into your consciousness.

i couldn’t count how many unfinished pieces i have; folders of half written pages and scrapes, both digital and physical, but they have a way of popping back up and weaving their way into other pieces. i like to think of them as working material. sometimes i go searching for them, to find that one line im missing or to start a piece itself. sometimes they find me, nagging at the back of my mind until i shuffle through my scrapes to unearth words that wont stop calling for me.

i usually like to start on paper. there is something about being able to hold a piece physically that makes it all the more “tangible”. though, after ive fleshed out the frame work, the freedom in writing and editing on a computer cant be beat. it is much easier to finish and clean up a piece when lines can be moved so freely or that perfect word can be scrutinized next to its competition.

this piece is a product of that scrutiny, also one that sat idly by until called upon, quite literally (by an eager muse). it is always nice to see why and how a piece evolves. this one looks little like its original, but the message and the feelings are all there, just finely pressed. i wrote it quite some time ago for someone very special to me, for someone that gave more to me then i could ever hope to reciprocate. im happy to say the sentiment it contains still, and will always, hold(s) true. though it is little compared to what is deserved, i hope she likes the finished version as much as the draft.

To smell her

To fill every breath with her scent

To see her

How her hair falls across my chest

To hear her

A choir of voices in melody

A touch

An instant

A calling

To taste her

The sweetness of her skin

To meld her body with mine

To feel, to know

To take her in

To stare into the depths of those eyes

To experience the beauty of unwavering sight


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