The Wind On My Skin


A cold-front swooped in in the night,

it brought back nostalgia and I didn't bother wearing a jacket that day.

The wind on my skin,

Autumn in San Antonio crawling back to me and I knew this feeling was everything.

The warmth in my chest conflicting with the outside cold,

Houston weather always has a surprise for you.

My sister walks by with her car keys in hand,

I follow suit and we head off to the great forrest park of Jessy  Jones.

My camera is a part of me now,

Whether it's at the park or in my own room.

In my room I watch the light dance against the painted glass bottles on my window sill.

I paint a new one almost every month,

Painting is a form of art I can not fathom into words.

You feel the brush strokes in your hand,

But against the canvas paper is a whole nother being.

Testing the paint against the rough surface and you have an idea of what you want,

But the result is so much better.

Somethng else that makes me happy,

Seeing that smiling face of yours.

I never knew it would be like this,

Seeing you and suddenly the world becomes spacious,

No one else matters and the warmth in my chest lifts me up like a hot air balloon.

The familiar scent along with the touch I know so well,

It reminds me that hugs aren't given without receiving one in return.

You look down at me and there's a moment where my head gets light,

I feel alert and I can't help but push myself foward into your arms.

The tighter it gets,

The safer I feel.

Happiness is a feeling that lingers when you walk away,

And is revived when you come back.


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