Waking up

Remember when I told you I was never going to stop
Lovin’ you with all my heart and soul no matter what
Now it seems I’m breaking every promise that I made
‘Cause every night I’m desperate
Askin’ God if He would just let me forget it
But I wake up lovin’ you

Irony, maybe. I broke plenty of promises over the years which paved this road of regrets and new directions. All of that is in the past, I can’t tell you though. I can’t explain that everything that you wanted is waiting for you.  Everything that you needed, everything that made this so special, so great is right here.

Waiting for you.

Drifting further and further away as I stand where I am, in such a better place than a year ago.  Everything is here. Everything is waiting. 

Nothing on this Earth is perfect. I will never be.

But I am not who I was and who I am is who you wanted me to be.

I can only see you drifting away each day, each painful night, and agonizing morning.  It only hurts when I breathe in or out. A thousand knives that you have signed tearing at my heart. I gave you the pen, I know. I will stand here since I cannot move to you. In the twilight, I am watching the sun come up for the rest of the world but the shadow stands between us. I am on the other side of it, wishing you would do the same and see what the sun is shining on now. 

I will not beg, plead, or ask you. I told you that you were right at that time and it needed to happen.  You were right. It did need to happen. It did happen. You were right.

That is no longer the case. 

Every morning I wake up missing you next to me, sometimes I swear I feel you with me just holding on to that palpable memory, that early morning tangible ghost that taunts me. I can see the sun coming through those blinds and lighting your face before your morning smile lights the room back.  Every memory of every morning rushes past like a train through the wreck that was this life, reminding, reliving, remonstrating.  When my eyes clear and that space empties that you once occupied, my heart falls, my breath stops, my brain wills  me to move, but for that brief second I am paralyzed by the memory, by the ghost that causes pain to radiate to every nerve, every cell that screams out just wishing that you could hear me. Every morning the sun arrives and makes everything else new again, I wake up loving you. 

I wish I could forget. I wish I could wake up without this ghost. Without this regret, that the life you wanted is being left alone.  I want to take this leap because I know where we will land. I can’t tell you. I can’t speak. I can’t explain. I can only wait, hope, and wake up loving you.

Somewhere in the middle

“How did you ever lose that girl?” She said.  A face that doesn’t align with a name, though clearly a face that knows her well.

“By not growing up, by being selfish,” a pause and looking at her to see if it wasn’t rhetorical, “Well, how long do you have?” with a slight smile, knowing that it’s not much of an exaggeration.

A light nod and small smile back, “Well what would you do if she gave you another chance?” with an inclined head waiting to see if the answer is sufficient.

A pause as if the answer requires any thought, so the pause is only brief, “I would sweep her off of her feet and spend the rest of my life making sure that her feet never touch the ground again.”

No response, but I can tell from her face that the answer was sufficient. I can see her face nearby, talking and smiling to her coworkers.  That smile lights up and warms up the night.  It feels like everything melts away for a few seconds while she talks.  A twinge of regret that those smiles don’t land on me anymore, that those eyes don’t open to mine in the morning, that those arms aren’t where I am right now.


“A few more hours to be complete, a few more nights on satin sheets, a few more times that I can say, I’ve loved these days”
Another night sitting under the cold stars wishing for the heat of your hand in mine.
In my heart, it burns like a wildfire, raging to be heard, to be seen to be felt by you, at least acknowledged and given some life as it burns out all I have to give. I am no longer who I was.
The river has moved me and shaped me and taken what was given to it, cleansing, renewing and rebuilding all that remains. The waters run cold to the touch, but burn with their clarity.
The past is not an anchor that ties me
Yesterday isn’t a mistake that binds me
Tomorrow is unwritten, it is always a blank canvas
The story has changed and I hope you can see it
Tomorrow isn’t yesterday repeating and I hope we can share it.