my heart and I belong somewhere else

my heart and I would be somewhere where it’s raining. Where even the night can pull off looking gloomy, too dark, too cloudy. A moody night when the weather has a temper and my heart just keeps fluttering too much for it to think straight. At first I’d just like to have my raincoat with me. Dark blue, dangling down to just above my knees, big buttons crossing all the way to just beneath my chin, and a hood to swallow back my hair, even though it won’t save the drips from getting to my forehead. I want cute polkadot rain boots too. I’ll walk to where I’d like to go, just with the night’s company. The puddles can talk to me and the scuff of my boots can join in and the sloshing of the sleepy eyed drivers out at such an hour passing me can pitch in too, if they happen to be around. Then I’ll get to my little cafe. I want to be able to see it from a block away, when everything else is asleep and every window’s eyes’ are closed and the cafe is the only thing illuminated it seems for miles. That tangy, dim light. The light ding above my head to greet me. Then the night can wait outside, until of course I’m ready for it to walk me home, to tuck me back into bed. There’d be a cute dainty little waitress, the only one willing and able to work such a night shift, weary but present. I’d whisper my order to her before I sat, and I’d make my way to the very end of the cafe, against the corner window. I could let my hood fall and the ends of my hair send droplets to scurry and slide down my thighs, my fingers tingling. Waiting for the warmth. I’d get some delicious coffee, some sort of cappuccino or how about french vanilla. Yes I’d like that. And I’d hold it between my fingers until they blushed from the scorch of the heat and I’d stir, and I’d stir, and I’d stir, just to hear the clinks of the mug writing me a short little sonet. A love poem, even. If I could, if I really really could choose, the only company, then, that I’d ask for is a set of handsome eyes sitting on the very opposite end of the cafe, at his own round and tiny table with countless empty and body-less ones between us, the same aroma and scent clinging to his lips and skin as mine. Dark coffee to match deep set eyes, untouched and unrefined scruff to compliment a nice jaw. A light brunette. A red rain jacket leading down to a wonderful pair of hands, an artist hands, a creator’s hands, passionate hands. Hands that look like they’ve touched ground. Touched someone, somewhere, something. Actually touched. Maybe a book at his table, like there’d be one tucked in the slouchy pockets of my coat. I’d like to look up, for him to do the same, to meet in the briefest of ways and know that at least then and there I belong to someone entirely, and they to me. 

lead me

My heart breaks for other people a lot of times. For friends that are struggling. For those I know are better than what they allow themselves. The people I allow to know me, I love a lot and I love hard.

Then other days, my heart just breaks. I get lonely and my heart aches for things I don’t know. I’m one of those people that doesn’t know how to stop loving someone. I’ll be sucked right back in the second things start going right and when they go wrong again, I know that I know…I should’ve protected me better or kept my mouth shut. I just don’t know how. I’m like this really weird paradox that hates vulnerability, but enjoys being real. So I’ll tell the hard truths and I’ll be honest with people, but I still protect the deep parts of my heart. I’m genuine in what I say and I’m known for it, but laying it on the line when a part of me is at stake, that’s a different story. 

I know parts of me are a disaster; they’re just a complete mess. Sometimes I say too much. Sometimes I don’t say enough. Sometimes I shut down and walk away when I’m frustrated. Some days I seriously wonder if I’ll always feel some things deep down and if I’ll just push those to the side to make it through the day. I struggle with feeling redeemed. I struggle with grace. I struggle to pursue Him back. Sometimes, I just really don’t want to. In the aftermath of all of those things, though, I find myself running, immediate or delayed, to the one place I know I can be vulnerable and broken and still be known. So, today I’m a bit of a mess. Tomorrow, I’ll be a mess, too, of a different kind I’m sure. All of these faults in myself and things that threaten to break me may never change. I’m just thankful that even if they do, 

He won’t.

October is the best month because ...

• You get to snuggle since it is so chilly
• Hot chocolate
• Pumpkin everything
• Lots of candles
• Rain rain and more rain
• Time to watch a scary movie
• Halloween (duh)
• Colorful leaves
• There’s that certain smell in the air
• You get to wear a lot of layers
• Blanket overload
• Cute cardigans
• Hot coffee and tea
• Boots
• Cute Fall Starbucks cups
• It’s not so bright outside
• Breast Cancer Awareness month
• Cute crafts and pumpkin carving
• Naked trees
• Fireplaces
• Bike rides
• Long walks