heading nowhere but heading places…

I’m inside a silver winged bird, heading nowhere, but heading places.

Destination one- The City of Angels.

I’ve packed up my life into 8 suitcases and stashed them in the basement of my Aunties dentist clinic. I’ve left my job, my home, and my love. I’ve left my friends, my family, my comfort and did I mention my love….

I have 2 stops and then no itinerary or plan for the next 4 months

I’m not sure why I’m here, where I’m going or the exact details or the purpose of this trip. All I know is that I need do this alone and test myself, my spirit as well as test love and all its desires with the true test of time.

My love is beautiful. At my going away party he bought my friends and me Indian takeaway food from the best curry house in North Fitzroy. He drops my 8 suitcases off to the basement of my aunties dentistry clinic, He sends me my current favourite album “Inside Llewyn Davis” for my trip, He loves me up hard yet tender. When he smiles he’s eyes crease warm and genuine. He takes me out on incredible and outlandish dates and chain-smokes organic Manitou cigarettes. He talks too much but I don’t care. He is a gentleman.

I left him last Sunday morning. I didn’t want to, untangling myself from him, his warmth and his scent were harder then I imagined, I almost wanted to cancel my flight… I didn’t want him to come to the airport, I prefer short and sweet goodbyes but he insistently jumped in the taxi with me and chaperoned me to the plane.

We drunk coffee and shared our last cigarette on the cement pavement in the taxi rank…. We kissed, me on my tiptoes, him slightly crouched down. He said goodbye and walked away. My love… his lips thick and succulent, his stubble feels like velvet through my fingers…. His swagger. Damn.

I watched him disappear into the distance.

We are so brave, you and I…..

We’ve spoken once since. He’s distant now; he’s gone into self-preservation mode, self-protection, put those stainless steel titanium walls up. Now. Hard. And he does…. did. And I can’t blame him for such things…. Human survival. No more kisses, no more I love you’s, no more storybook text messages. And I understand why, the reasoning and all…..

My good friend told me you that you can’t have your cake and eat it too.

Here I was trying to have it all, writing love letters to my Australian gentleman lover while having the pick of the USA

I planned to love deep and pure, fast and furious, and then to disappear into early morning skies to the next happening. But is that just easier in storybooks and moving pictures… once love is confessed, saliva swallowed, DNA exchanged, hearts magnetic… How do you leave without hurt, without “what ifs” without that shooting pain of loss that trembles through your body?

And now I fly on a silver winged bird over oceans and countries I have never visited and think of him, of us…..

How things could have turned out different. There’s a loss in my gut and a pain in my heart, longing for him, and for the last month of passion we shared. but there’s also a crooked smile on my lips, thinking of the good times we had and what is yet to come.

Babe, that was one of the best months of my life…. Sleepless and reckless…passionate and concubine feline-like… hmmmmm you rocked my world.

And you will make my coming home so much more tantalizing….

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