Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. The Feeling is mine, the hope I try and dare hold on to, for love, even in the dark I feel most days.
A/N: My goodbye to winter this year. Your twenties might be too young still to know how to say what I know I need to, thank you for allowing me to try.
If you find love for this in you, it would mean so much to hear your thoughts. Thank you for being here with me, not leaving me in the dark.
You reading this, allowing me to share my thoughts, my demons, have saved me more than once with your kind words, when feeling ridiculously small. How often do you have to be broken to feel that small? I have to wonder.
The Last Of Winter's Days
Kurt has been meaning all day to pass the note. He had written it, last night five times, and then, sitting on his bed laid them all beside each other, taking a good hard look. Which one to choose?
They had all said the exact same thing.
But Kurt had wanted to see for himself how different they could look if he used a different paper on two of them, a different pen on one other.
Two exact duplicates, only... not... either.
Handwritten, how could they be!
xxxx
Blaine looks up from the note, tears in his eyes, about to fall, trembling with the smile, so bright, his lips are barely able to hold. "Kurt."
It is one word.
And it is everything and more.
The answer is equally strong and decisive and not just Kurt but both of them.
The whole exchange is, holds, shows all they need, all they are.
"Blaine."
No need to hide.
Loved, loving, for not hiding.
Both of them.
Beyond the surface, they can even forget about warmth.
It is there yes, tangible in the touch of fingertips meeting just now, but there, too, is so much more. They are so much more.
x
x
x
x
x
Lima, March 19th
My Love,
Seasons somehow seem to bring out the poetry safe-kept in me - crushing my insides sometimes.
I hope you can feel…my heartbeat running in this, through this.
I hope to be a true poet in old age.
I feel it requires the biggest of skill, I hope to collect it throughout my journey. Through luck and hard work.
My teens might be too young still to know how to say what I know I need to, what, already, I know I feel. Words are missing still, from my insides, so I keep looking.
Because it is eating me alive each day I keep it in, am foolish enough to try and fence it in…the feeling, so deep, I have gotten lost in that forest more than once.
You are my light shining.
With you I see, so much more. There is so much more to see, with you.
Our Love
Both our hands feel cold, that day, we find each other,
That November.
Holding each other the warmth is impossible to make out with a
Look,
If you do not know
Where to look, nor how to see.
xxxx
But we do.
We do know.
And we do look.
And see.
And the cold air that surrounds us does not bother.
Has not bothered us
Since last year's autumn came around,
With colors so bright and air that smelled of
Rain, water, life.
xxxx
The calendar has moved on, promising
From tomorrow on,
Spring,
Promising,
For warmth to fill the world, and support that which is always there,
Within.
xxxx
We know where to look.
We have,
We hold
Our own
Warmth.
xxxx
The cold of the last months
If anything
Having allowed us to feel it
More fiercely,
Between the covers,
During day
At night.
xxxx
In our eyes,
Across a room,
A hall,
Full of others.
Strangers,
Mostly.
xxxx
In our voices,
on the phone.
In the way the lines and letters flow
More freely,
In your words to me,
In my words to you,
That extra spring
To our writing,
Our love
Notes,
Our love.