Tell Me Where To Meet You

photo of woman hugging man under clear umbrella
Joel Overbeck / Unsplash

1. Should I meet you in the soft morning light of a 3am dawn, in front of open closet doors of a Brooklyn apartment slow dancing to Billie Holiday?

2. Do I meet you on an Italian balcony lined with pigeons, mist lined windows, the rendezvous we spoke of on isolated evenings when our bodies were far but our hearts were near?

3. Can I find you surrounded by trees on the summit of a mountain; the one where we first laughed as though our circumstances of breakups and makeups were washed away by the innocence of soft summer rain?

4. How about at the epicenter, directly above our bursting hearts, where you have forgotten your “she,” I my “he,” and the only thing restricting our spirits are longitudinal lines and time zones?

5. Do I find you in Paris by the Seine river or on the steps of the Sacre Coeur? Can we rewrite our history the second time around and release pain without restraint, become amnesiacs to the past, live in the dementia of our future?

6. What if I followed you to into the heat of a Spanish night beneath the subtle click of a ceiling fan and disregarded the peeling paint of teal bedroom walls as they flaked and formed mosaic structures on my bare shoulders?

Tell me where to meet you. Tell me where your mouth meets mine and our lives realign. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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