Our 21-Day Chrysalis

chrysalis 1. a soul trapped inside in a body. 2. an enchanted chamber where an amazing transformation will occur. 3. a protective covering ~ a refuge ~ for the changeling. 4. a symbol for metamorphosis which occurs from the inside, out. Inside the hard, golden-coloured shell of chrysalis the organism has dissolved itself into fluid. Final emergence from the silent, fluid-filled solitude breaks the chrysalis from inside. The metamorphosed individual bares herself to the world.

Day 1 :: My dear Pilot, your spirit flutters all around me. I feel you in the warm and golden sunlight than shines in my eyes. I feel you, as the sun’s heat kisses and caresses the delicate, sinewy curves of my throat. And I close my eyes, imagining your soft velvet lips pressed gently against my pale skin.

Day 2 :: Beloved, I look to your photo and see my heart there, wrapped in gold leaf, and folded … into yours. Pilot? Can you see its glowing incandescence? Can you feel its radiant passion? I burn for you. Pilot, tenderly you hold my heart. Please, don’t shatter its brittle core.

Day 3 :: A monumental metamorphosis looms before us both. This love has dissolved each of us, rage and despair have trapped us ~ like a cell of light trapped in the darkness. The chrysalis has formed. For each of us. And we begin to transform … from the inside, out. And the transformation stretches us, challenges us, forces our hearts from inertia into motion. We will emerge from this lonely, inert, fluid-filled chamber. We will break this chrysalis from the inside.

Day 4 :: Make loved to me, my Beloved. Touch me, kiss me … squeeze me, stroke me. Fill me ~ your empty and eager vessel. I ache. It’s a crushing ache. My spirit has become fluid under the weight of this inertia. My heart grows ever more restless, fretful, unfocused.

Day 5 :: Dearest, time slips forward, quite inconspicuously. Your absence squeezes my heart. I long to feel the rush of your breath in my hair. I long … yearn … it reminds me I’m alive.

Day 6 :: Time draws near. I find myself thinking about practical matters ~ the weather, and what I shall wear when I travel. I want to feel your nearness, to smell the scent of Brut against your skin, to taste your lips and your tongue.

Day 7 :: As our time draws near, my heart and soul grow so restless. Its the sort of restlessness that creeps upon me, carefully edging itself under my skin. The very core of my Self feels ajitter. Pilot, I long to sleep beside you, nestled into your back ~ the way spoons cradle each other. I want to feel your skin next to my cheek as I drift off to slumber, and I want to drape my arm around you … around your belly … and squeeze you close to me.

Day 8 :: Pilot, I can barely wait for the little, mundane things: laundering your clothes and folding them, inserting a sprinkle of love into each item. I can barely wait to wrap myself in the gentle pride I feel when I do those mundane things for you. These mundane things tell the entire world that … your heart belongs to me.

Day 9 :: The first person you see when you see before you fall asleep. The first person you see when you awake. The one who watches you breathing when you sleep. The one for whom you reach … All of these women I will become once more. Darling, nothing fills my heart with more joy.

Day 10 :: Pilot, I’m thinking again about practical things, such as what shall I pack? What shall I wear, to greet you? What will the weather bring us, on that day? I purchased a little something for you today. I hope you like it, my dear.

Day 11 :: I saw a young couple kissing in the cafe this evening; they asked another patron to take a picture of them in this pose. The kiss oozed of passionate energy. This reminded me of that iconic photograph, taken by Robert Doisneau ~ le baiser de l’hotel de ville. And, it led me to thoughts of you, dear Pilot. Kiss me Pilot. Kiss me like you’ve never kissed me before … and never will, again.

Day 12 :: Pilot, my heart silently thrashes about, in search of you. I have moved your photograph to my bedside ~ it greets me when I awake.

Day 13 :: I have had dreams of walking through grand, old, wooden, and labyrinthine hallways and spiral staircases. The road that leads to US ~ Pilot & Frizzy, together ~ seems such a long, and at times lonely road to traverse.

Day 14 :: My spirit feels restless, Pilot, so restless and unsettled as to send my heart into a sort of dark discordia. I’m frightened.

Day 15 :: Moon dust glitters in your hair, my sweet, and gold dust sparkles in your eyes. And a fire burns there, in your heart. I see myself, in those flames. I hear your voice ~ I feel it, too, like golden, sweet honey ~ in the cellar of my mind.

Day 16 :: I know that you love me. Pilot, truly that’s all I ever need ~ YOU. Thoughts of you, keep these dreary, long days sweet … like nectar.

Day 17 :: Pilot, I feel like the luckiest girl on the planet. Love … from me, to you. A dove sits on your shoulder; can you hear her, cooing softly in your ear?

Day 18 :: Pilot, we’ll picnic on that hill, the one that overlooks the village. We’ll feed each other fruit ~ juicy cantaloupe pieces, and the red-est, plumpest raspberries. And grapes, the sweetest green grapes. You’ll lay your head down on the ground … and my hair will spill all around you, as I reach to give you an eskimo kiss.

Day 19 :: Pilot, when I think of us, I can hardly believe it. How blessed am I.

Day 20 :: Time draws nearer. Can you feel it?

Day 21 :: At last, Pilot, at long last. I almost cannot stand it ~ how close, and yet how far.