In love with the shape of you.
It's the instantaneous recognition...the darkened room silhouette. The familiar.
It is far from routine...rather, it is quite the opposite. If I had even the luxury of daily...weekly...monthly views, I'd perhaps feel spoiled, feel that I didn't deserve.
Most likely I don't.
I must have failed in projecting what the image means when it is near me, when it closes, when it gathers. When you are in the same proximity, I must have failed to tell you of the eclipse of all other things...all others.
High beam like in a posture that makes me slightly blink but not look away...you capture.
Mesmerize. Compel. And it is in the recognizable outline of you...especially approaching.
Because the same outline departing is exquisitely sad. Suffocating. Extinguishing.
You blot the sun.
You blind me in one eye.
The outline of you must be the same feeling explorers felt, adrift at sea for days, months and even years, staring at the blue slate horizon unbroken by land or by shape, high up in a crow's nest and following the sun again and again...the complete unbroken routine of an ocean with no end in sight....moving slowly, steadily, but routinely mind-numbingly consistent.
My days...
And then, with the sweet outburst from a lookout, a slight irregular shape on the far horizon. Something breaking apart the horizon.
The potential...the untapped. The different.
The same emotion when I see the shape of you fix in my frame and approach me.
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