Sometimes a random memory of you and I in a single moment flashes in my mind and I’m often so surprised by such a sudden and vivid advent that quite without meaning to I submit to a sharp intake of breath and by the time it’s time to breathe out again the memory has gone.It only lasts a few seconds but it is as real in that moment as it was when we lived it. x.
You light up my cold heart
They spoke of you out loud tonight. Like you were a real person - not just something I made up in my head.
It made me feel… better.
I miss you.
On the surface we seem odd.
The sum of my parts make up a small timber house in an old wood by a lake next to an open field of wildflowers. In the winter a fire burns quietly inside, stoked by the thought of warm summer nights when I’ll be able to open the house up and listen to the evening from the porch, the sky clear and full of stars so bright you can see their reflection in the lake.
And you. Your pieces appear to create a large house made of ambition and success. You don’t have a yard but you keep a small fern on the desk in your office to remind yourself that life is not all metal and masonry. You have not seen the stars in a long time but some nights you look up through the eyes of the boy that you were and the sky opens up so wide you start to fool yourself into believing that you don’t actually need this big house.
But then, by some strange stroke of cosmic wonder, on the flipside of our pieces lies another puzzle, one that nobody saw, and when you put both of our pieces together you can see that - together - we don’t seem so strange at all. We fit. And it all makes perfect sense.
But you’ve already put your jigsaw together, and there’s no room for my pieces to fit. So I live out my days in my little house by the lake, but I leave my puzzle unfinished incase you ever need any of my pieces to make your one whole.
In anticipation of your absence I never went home. But it is felt nonetheless, (your absence) as I sit here, in this crowded room.
I know you have your demons to deal with, as we all do. But it’s not fair to treat me as though I was one of them when we were supposed to be in it together.
I won’t expect to hear from you but you know where to find me if…..you need me.
Don’t let it be the last time.
I’m trying to say goodbye.
It shouldn’t be this hard.
I just really want…. to punch you in the face.
It’s funny, the things you remember when you wake at 4am on an insignificant Tuesday.
Like the tiny piece of thread that would stick out of the second button on that white collared shirt you would wear which I hated. Almost every ounce of my being wanted to pull at it but an overriding part of me prevented it, as though the very act might cause us to unravel.
And when I think about that thread I wonder if, perhaps, somebody else pulled it.