We spoke today. Well, in a way we did. I feel most alive in the moments right before she calls me "the past". My words sit down next to her, silently. She doesn't see me for who I am now, but still looks upon what I used to be with something similar to love. Her tears are the tides that wash in, destroying my sand castles in the process. Then we sit next to each other silently, watching the sun set.
"You are all of the downtrodden, misfits, and underdogs of society rolled into one person," she says.
"Be weary of those who say they are proud of you. A CHANGE GONE COME. And they only see what they want. But you've been more than beautiful from day one."
And though I've always been adept at understanding and capturing the essence of a weeping woman, with her I am at a loss.
Love is part observation. Part possession. The truth is that love is the ultimate and the highest goal to which we can aspire. It's our only hope for salvation. And tonight, as the rain washes away the sins of the world, I am keenly aware of my aloneness. Of the lack of love in my life.
My hope is to heard. And loved for what I have said.
I am not there, my dear. But remember me on nights like this when it rains. Then forget me. And never cry. I tossed the roses over the bridge I walked across tonight that wasn't really there. And watched them float away.
Thunder rolled tonight and shook the walls... "But when there's no storm, how can I feel the calm?"
AJS
