Run Again

Sometimes I forget to feel.

The bubbles of champagne; the loose rocks beneath my feet—the ones that make you think about how to walk.

Your hardly present touch on my thigh, the way it can make me forget how to speak.

The sincerity of a thank you; the slap of love from a puppy’s tongue—how it innocently coats you with love.

A wish to be careful; a genuine hug—the kind that lasts long enough to breathe in a sense of comfort.

I forget to feel it all sometimes. How precious life is and all the little moments and tricks that seem to be the reason we need to keep going.

And then it floods back fashionably late when I’ve become melancholy of feeling nothing. Life becomes almost overwhelming to notice feeling bare, blank, below… when it’s been a choice to not care all along.

Unanticipatedly, yet always promised, my world is caked with colors I forgot existed, textures I’ve never felt, sounds I’ve never understood.

Everything is just as it should be, never with altering. The wind's howling tune, the rain's escape of heat, your scent on the pillow even after you kiss me goodbye.

The universe wants to heel you, it wants to be felt, and when you allow it, my God, is it ever a blessing to run again.