My heart skipped a beat in that second. As I watched her gracefully half-stumble into the room, preoccupied with something, I caught her glance and a bit of happiness shot out of her like a ray of light and went through me, filling me with joy as the ray transformed into a rope, pulling me closer to give her a hug. How are you doing? College? The vehicle taking us both away, promising us candy but no fruit if it moves away from the orchard. But not even land, mountains, a river nor a sound could ever seperate my heart from hers, as I try to persuade her to complete the connection. I feel as though this is a one-way chute that I pour my feelings down, with her body as the recepticle. I would much rather it be a circulating stream, as intricate as each fiber of her scintillating hair and as strong as her beautiful mind can allow her to be.
My heart skipped a beat in the next second, too, as I realize it's just a dream. She's hours away, living her own life...or more likely, sleeping at the moment, because I'm sure she can rest easier than I. My heart will skip that beat for real, though, soon. I can feel it. And if not soon, then eventually, for I will wait forever for her. She is my first love, and I have devoted one hundred percent of my love to her. Anybody else would just be compared and shut down in comparison.
And so I wait for those eyes to glance my way...and maybe even pause for a moment, as I look into them and see the whole universe projected on her beautiful retinas, as well as mine. Through glasses our eyesight is improved, but through affection, our sense of emotion is improved. I would rather be blind, for then I would be unhindered as I see into your heart and love every nanometer of it. As I zoom out in my mind's eye, she becomes who she should be and who she always is, two people in one, creating one, one person of love, one object of love, one who I love and will love forever.
Dead of winter. It's cold outside, and the paint's peeling off of my walls. There's a man standing outside, wearing a long grey coat, a grey hat, a cigarette pressed firmly between his lips. The light fades out, and I start to wonder what I'm doing in a room like this. There's a loud knock on the door, a dark brown tone that matches the hue of the door's wood - and just for a second I thought I remembered you.
So now I'm alone, I can finally think for myself, about all the little deals and issues, and other things that I just don't understand; but deep down they don't really matter in the long run. So you told a little white lie that night... or a sly touch at times... I don't think it mean anything to you.
After what seems like a cliché, I open the door - it's the friend that I'd left in the hallway. "Please sit down," I say, with apparent cheer. He casts a vast candlelit shadow on a wall near the bed. You know I hate to ask... but... are "friends" electric? Only... mine's broke down... and now I've no-one to love...
Yes, I found out your reasons for all the late night intimate phone calls and friendly smiles; it hurts, and I'm lonely, and I should never have tried. I really missed you tonight. Time to leave I think.
You see, it meant everything to me.
I, a wretch of twenty-five years, had been alone in my misery. Younger women I shrugged off with casual disregard for their shallow lust, and I in turn had been locked out by too many women for my graceless leaden heart. An isolation part chosen and part fate.
A stray dog etching out a living in the dirty back alleys of the big city. It's fur matted with grime and, in places, dried blood from open wounds. Knowing only pain and fear, the mutt limps from place to place, seeking shelter from the constant rain.
When she came to town that night I found her outside the train station, waiting among commuters and taxi cabs and slowly drifting snow. We embraced as good friends do on reuniting after time gone by. Here to see her lover and on short notice... yet she stayed with me. But after the hops and laughter, she played a siren song, two and three. Was that one for me? And I fell for her all over again. Her hand clumsily fell in mine, I grasped it. And before I knew it her lips transformed 'Her' and 'I' into 'Us', with just a kiss.
And for a moment, a roaming mutt was given shelter from the elements. A rug in front of the hearth, a fresh meal and a gentle hand to stroke his matted fur.
By no means perfect is she, but who among us could claim such? Of all her flaws, human as they are, I then loved her not in spite of them, but because of them. Because they define her and mold her and are such a part of who she is that any rejection of these principals is tantamount to heresy against her soul. I wanted to say to her: "There is no woman alive so beautiful as to match the gentle slope of your nose, the pout of your lips or the way your hair falls in a curtain when you let it down. The haunting sound of your voice when you sing and the crackle of your laughter is like a January bonfire in a snowy open field, burning just for me. You are beautiful because you make such beautiful works, instilling into them a piece of yourself. Sometimes you seem so fragile, and it makes me wish I could protect you from that sea of troubles, hold you and never let you go". But these words are as lost to me as the sensation in the tips of my fingers.
She left the next morning and only came back to get her things. My cancer mind raced to find the Why, with cold logic. I never knew how alone I truly was until that next day I never heard from her.
The same one that showed such kindness to a stray dog, kicked it in the face and threw it back on the street.
I learned then that if something hurts enough, the mind has a way of disconnecting from the very source of that pain.
I didn't let that happen. Not yet. Not ever.
Inside my pessimism,
There's a raw hope that I am
capable and deserving
of loving and being loved.
Even if only once more I will open myself up to those slings and arrows.
I call for her; I will afford myself the risk no matter the odds.
Coward no more.
Sounds like the story of two persons i knew. Long time ago.