I would dance a thousand lives
Swallow a thousand lies
But I’ll never be with you
The river carves
While we while the time away
Hoping for healing voice
But finding our paths to tragedy
Sin in hopeful tone
Long buried beneath
Perhaps, a chance
I am lost in the echo
I would die a thousand deaths
If I could hold you in my arms
As I slipped away
I would live a thousand lives
If I could live them by your side
I would fight a thousand battles
If I could keep you from harm
I would watch your back a thousand thousand times
As you fought the battles I could not see
These thoughts as I lay awake dreaming
In this empty bed
In this too quiet room
Give me a moment to catch my breath
I’m lost in this minute without
The air tastes of mint and menthol
I can’t tell the difference between
Moving on and moving back
I can’t decide
Can’t find a choice
I’m lost in this perpetual glow of hope
Does it matter?
I was never hurt by waiting
Just pushing away
Trained to accept your word
I falter in holding on
Because you say
I’ll leave and I say stay
I suppose it was always too late
When I first talked with her it was through comments on a thing I wrote. That happened more and more until I felt I was getting to know her. Then I said I was falling for someone and she knew though I didn’t say that it was her. We started talking in earnest and it seemed to be going well. Then tragedy struck and we seemed to be getting through that. I was right on the verge of saying, “We need to meet in person.” And as I was typing that to her, I found myself blocked. She’d ghosted me. I was destroyed. Beyond destroyed, devistated.
My friend helped me pick up the pieces. It took 4 months before I wasn’t I complete mess. Then as my life got back to something resembling good, she messaged me. Out of the blue. Explaining and apologizing. I’d let her go. Let the pain go.
I was with someone which ultimately fizzled and now we’re just friends.
And after it fizzled we allowed each other back into our lives. And it was good. Not like it was but still really good. But now she’d push me away and I’d not let her. I’m not a idiot, I saw what was happening and I don’t want, didn’t want to let her go.
Then she came to me completely rational and told me that she couldn’t be with me and work through what she needed to work through.
I said ok. I said it more eloquently than that but that’s what I said. What else could I say?
I would do anything for her and if the thing I could do was leave her to heal on her own without me, then of course I had to let her go.
That doesn’t mean that I don’t still love her. Or, if I’m not with anyone, would not want to be with her. I still think about her all the time. I used to dream that I slept by her side. Those dreams are gone.
I would never have left her if she didn’t request it. Life is the stupidest rigged game you’ll ever participate in. Even if you think you know what is happening, you never really do.
So I took this down, put it up, took it down, I edited it, life….it sucks.
In my youth
I thought to remake the world or burn it
to break it and rebuild
but somehow those dreams slipped away
replaced by just trying to be content
to find a way clear of sadness
looking for and finding
failing and loss
breaking and broken
it was I that was lost.
And somehow I woke
but always craving the dream
a world where you loved me
He made me feel alive by looking at me
He made me feel sick when he looked away
But he would always come back and my heart would burst to sunshine
But always remember, that black night with the open door
When he kissed me I burned and when he whipped me I woke
And when he left me
I was alone with the quiet and the open doorway bleeding light into the night
In a time before I knew that I was alone
And that all my futures were empty
But there he stood,
Holding my gaze and beating the pain from my bones and replacing them with fire
Until I could take no more
And collapsed against his chest and begged him to Stay
Stay with me and don’t walk away
The quickest way to leave is to want more than they give
This lesson I learned again and again but I cannot be so callous
And I made a habit of lifting them up and granting strength until I had nothing left to give
A spent thing watching them walk away, healed and better. While I break a bit more, a bit further, always hoping
And always left with nothing but a open door, spilling light,
There are 2 types of people. People who have lost some they romantically loved and those that haven’t. Let me be explicit. A person who died, either by violence or not.
The people without this get to have the luxurious illusion of the one true love. That somehow they have the secret. That they have their forever, their true, love.
On the one hand I am envious of their illusion. It is a warm place. A safe place. On the other, I fear for them. What happens when the glass bubble shatters. What happens when they know loss. Do they, then begin to wither? For one thing to be true for so long has the danger of becoming truth. And Truth is hard to recover from.
Those of us who knew loss early, know that each love is different. Each love has its own existence, its own feel. And, sadly, there is no one true love. Each love is flawed and each love is perfection.
Tragedy wakes us to this. We know that the one true love thing is a myth. We know because it can’t possibly be true. And, for myself, why I hate anything that speaks of predestination or everything happening for a reason. Things happen because of chance or because someone took a course of action. Often, several someone’s. But there is no grand design moving us all to some predestined ideal. This is another illusion.
I’m not saying that there is not powerful, strong love. I’m saying that the one true love is a trap. A lie that comforts. Treat each person with dignity, respect, and affection. Treat them with desire, if you desire them. Act courageously. Love completely.
But don’t fall into the logical fallacy of ‘one true love’. It not only isn’t true. It must not be true.
So my brain finally figured out something that would scare me and not trigger one of my subconscious tripwires. Which draw me into a lucid dream should a nightmare prove too scary.
It was pretty typical weirdness. A pharaoh brought back to life, filming a movie and not being friends with the extras who didn’t want to be friends with us anyway. A house party, and a snowstorm.
Then I receive a email. A email chronicling the manipulations of the person I’m in love with. The person who (in the dream) is manipulating me. Screwing with my head just because she can. Laughing about how she got my trust. Got into my life. About how utterly foolish I am. About how she got access to my wordpress account.
About my wordpress account being scoured of content.
I rush to check it and I’m locked out. I reset my password and get in and everything is gone. The account isn’t deleted. But everything is gone. Just this barren shell of everything I’ve written and worked on for more than 3 years.
Then I forced myself awake and it was one of those times where I kept waking but not up, just into another dream. Making it particularly horrible.
Your voice, whispering softly in my ear.
Your smile, like the sun coming out.
Your eyes flashing grey in sudden anger
The look in your eyes, saying Sir
Dressed to the nines dancing with abandon
Holding you after you spoke with family
Public displays of affection and your blush.
These 7 words for seven things that I miss.
11 years, 4 months, 11 days.
But there are those who are here that I love. But I’ll never be over her. I hope that’s OK.