waiting.

bookvictory
Originally uploaded by girafe en feu.

In my dream last night, you spoke to me in Gaelic. The Irish variety, of course, and not the Scottish variety that isn't quite the same to either of us. I understood every word you said, though upon waking, all I really remember is that you repeatedly called me your heart.

Your heart, overjoyed, has wings, and I could fly, if only I knew where to go. Smeared red ink covers my hand as I send messages in bottles across the globe, searching for the next stop.