Wanderlust… to soar in a grand way…

I am woman. Alive. Passionate.

Have been out in the rain and back.

Lived my life as I see fit.

I have danced with wild abandon; loved like you can never imagine.

Tragic- sometimes… often crazy. But never half-baked.

I have laughed with gusto…and have lived without excuses.

This is my story…. Unfolding…unraveling.

Sometimes out of control. Then I hit the breaks – sanity.

Now unafraid.  Then, behind a mask. Lost it. Exposed. Naked.

Clothed. Made-up. Frills.

Casual. Pedestrian. Sophisticated- trying… losing miserably.

Funny. Hair down. Again, crazy.

Bohemian soul. Conforming.

Antiquated. Current.

A walking irony.

But always myself… woman… alive…passionate.

You came back. Even after I pushed you away, not once, but once too many.

And still you came back…

You must really love me then, huh?

That thought fills me with such tenderness…I can hardly breathe…

But I am afraid…that we are the same people

And we cannot change even if our life depended on it.

Am I your flame and you my moth?

Are you Icarus with wings of wax and feathers?

Am I your sun? Are we each other’s Achilles?

My love I have journeyed far too long

Through the barren desert and found my oasis in you.

We are two old souls who have traveled this path before.

That’s how I know you may be afraid too.

Do you want me to be brave for the two of us?

Do you want me step up to the plate and just shout “yes!”?

Maybe I will…

I will…

There is something nostalgic and quite tragic about bumping into an old flame. The fire that was once so palpable, blazing in its scorching heat is now masked with cautious civility. Mundane conversation follows over a cup of coffee perhaps, reminiscing of common stories shared with a familiarity that only an ex-flame can evoke, pretending not to feel the knot that tightens inside your gut.

The encounter may be fleeting, a chance hello on the street or a lingering moment that makes you wonder where had all the romance gone? At the end of that chance meeting, there is that fork that divides itself into common, rational sense and wanton abandon of wanting to know if the sparks would still fly knowing you once shared an intimacy that were yours alone.

Alas, there is something attractive, enticing about the forbidden and so in that mili-second when you’re supposed to decide whether to walk away with your heart intact, but your passion unsatisfied or to give in to the moment, life changing decisions must be made.

Would you walk away? Surprisingly, I would… I did.