Wednesday, October 28, 2009

No less lost

Pretending I have what I want, or that I know how to get it. That I could pick up the phone and he would just know, to be serious or silly. And I guess what amazes me most, is that he can be either. Like a door, opening or closing, the effort is the same but the results are different.

Too many places to go and so I just stand still and hope, that somehow the choice will be made for me. This balancing pole growing heavy in my hands. The tightrope stretching out for miles. Almost wishing I was young again. The pain the same, but somehow life was less of a stranger then.

I fear someday he may ask. And I fear even more I may tell him. As words become sentences he cannot understand. All those childhood monsters under my bed shredding dreams I’ve never had. Dog paddling through the opening scenes so I can get right to the tragedy. Where the damsel establishes her distress.

I keep thinking I have time. To forget. To paint the walls in all those shades of teenage colorblindness. Just two people with nothing to hide. No less lost for having found each other.

2 comments:

  1. nice set of reflections you have going here....
    I like the line of connection that is running through these recent posts.

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  2. Thank you. It's nice to know someone's actually reading.

    ReplyDelete