between two people...

When something right happens, do sparks fly, do light bulbs brighten up and what is it about the time after the sparks flew to a dull glimmer in the back of the yard or the bulb breaks all over the kitchen floor? Is there still something right? 

What would it be if life - as it had been shown to me - didn't bring out a thin residue of theatrical passion? A thick reminder that no matter what, 'I will still appear as if I love you.' This misleading and too dramatized proclamation presses against the back of my eyes imprinting the disillusionment into all the hugs and smiles I receive. Giving me reason to keep a distance. What would it be like to feel real? To feel that no matter what, 'I'm here for you.' could be honestly spoken and received? 

I think when the light hit the floor, it got caught in the linoleum tile somewhere between the squashed lima bean and coffee stain - that sense of belonging. I've chased it into stores and wondered if that old bellhop had seen it, yeah, I've cried for it and I really did think it could be coming through the wind chime. If Elvis can still hang in the Jungle Room and Lincoln for some reason won't leave the Denver Theatre why can't that ominous creeping sense of belonging be comforting me through the soft clammer of singing winds?

 
  

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[Allan Johnson]

My bulb now only flickers, casting it's glow dimly with a subtle smile. Years of human toxin lay waste to it's blazing light. To shine again is to wonder why. Would the shadows truly depart or stay their place, waiting alongside your lima bean, hidden in the soiled crevasse, knowing their destiny is written, and the shadow will always vanquish the light. Light fears not the shadow I'm reminded. Light is being, and a shadow can only fill its void.

[Angela]

As assuredly as the evening will meet it's demise, so will the day give sway to the twilight... always the same, yet constantly changing. The seat of the soul rests upon the the choices made in this life. Though there are these darknesses and relapses in laughter, is it still not our responsibility to feed ourselves what we hunger for. I believe that is why I searched in people. I needed to find a source of truth something in someone anywhere that could show me I wasn't alone. The is no text book answer for a thing so profound that a child seeks, but still so many ways to fall in love with the idea of love capture the hearts of young dreamers and keep us holding on. That to me, is a miracle of life.

[Allan Johnson]

I felt love once. Not love as a temporary moment of heart, but an energy that flooded my very existence. It came as a blinding light, seen through closed eyes. I was flooded with a saturating warmth, as one would feel before realizing they had peed the bed. Every atom in my body knew it was love, not just my heart. My hair felt love, as did my knees, and every describable part. It came and went in a ponderous moment, leaving only its indelible mark. I think as humans we have a subconscious knowing of this, and we struggle and stumble through life in search of it. We crave it like a bee craves a flower. It eludes us, motivates us, teases us with a taste, and asks us to follow. Where does it lead? The mystery taunts me, and I will follow.