Yesterday as I watched you talk
to the young boy who could have
been your son,
I felt envy
in that moment.
You attentions.
Your focus.
Were kind, respectful and plenty.
Whenever you've walked into our door
I felt gladness
even when I was angry.
Undo the game.
Reverse your last moves.
There is no match point, there
never was with you.
I was being me.
So I thought.
And rethinking doesn't undo
what's been done,
what's been wrought.
We have loved, we have fought.
Yet, your heart is my harbor,
the solace I've sought.
I found the person who understood
when I could not.
Do you understand?
I hope so.
And...
hope is a uncertain filter
at times
through which we desire
to sift
a truth.
That's why its called
hope. Hope can be a
cold master or mistress.
Hope can be a glowing star.
And now you are, for me,
the someone who's always
been the someone who
I'd call my best friend.
And, you ask:
How's this true?
You are I becoming more separated people.
Truly individuated.
Two tall book ends.
With much history in between.
We're different from before, without
the uneasiness of the old same.
There is no blame.
But where is the judgment of being me,
of being you,
or in simply being?
And I don't enjoy the sound of
"Its not your fault."
After all, whose is it?
No ones.
I feel the earth inside myself
quaking. There is a kind of
fracturing. Not of pride.
But of foundation. I'm wobbling
on unsteady ground. I need some relating.
Not enough to be just the someone who
waits around. I want to mean something.
I am someone.
Do I look into my hands
and see myself holding them alone?
Your hands were always so warm;
They held gifts of music,vigor
loving and touch. A smile bojangled
in your eyes. A smile which never failed
to surprise,
with delight.
My mind must be strong,
yours must be too. Maybe we're
on the verge on numbness. Or a memory flu.
Maybe we're on the verge of deep sigh of blue.
Its a painful refrain
to a song I didn't want to write
with you. Never did.
Not ever. You can trust me on that one.
We co-habitated each other
for a very long time. I have to say
I enjoyed how you rhymed and
what it was that made up the
smallest and the greatest parts of you,
how you all came together.
It is hard to give a life
shared a rest.
The sweeter moments in life
shouldn't pass a test.
I have no moves.
This was never a game.
I'd like you to know that.
I don't know how to play
at what is not real.
You're real from your head
your toes. And you shocked with your bold green stare
from the first moment and, you know,
you still do me
in that way.
I'm
trusting for the best
some day. My life will
come true in some better ways.
Are there better ways
than you?
I'm trusting where you
will land and in
what you will do...
I guess I'm trusting in
myself too.
Our past was no prison.
There will be a reason given
for why I have cared deeply;
listen,
I will never be sorry
for loving you.
Copyright April 12, 2013 All Rights Are Reserved By This Author
Melissa A Howells Meloo Tilt-a-World
