Nicole Johnson

A window, nothing more than a door that leads to the unknown possibility of something more.

As I wander the grounds in search of that thing that makes my skin brighten and my heart quicken—time will only tell.

My skin does not prick.

My heart does not skip.

I wait and wait and no change.

A soul becomes soulless when not challenged.

Going through life doing the same thing everyday—how predictable?

We want something that will make our hair move, our scalps caressed and our cheeks grasped firmly, if only to kiss the center of our universe.

Moistened lips parted ever so gently and breath hitched ever so slightly.

A firm gaze aware of what may become a passionate kiss or a friendly embrace that leave us emptied.

The shoulders that balance us have stiffened, the spine that is our equilibrium has arched toward the sky with an aching halt at your not so subtle assault.

Is there no passion—even a little empathy for this hull of a being that stands before you waiting for a sign that life isn’t over?

A quick tug of my fingers, a firmer embrace of my palm—just to say, “Hey, I miss you. everything will be ok.”