Saturday, March 28, 2015

Thank You to All of You

This is a simple thank you
To all the people, things, and art,
that save me
thank you

You too, hun

Sunday, March 22, 2015

Forgetting

You made me want to completely forget the women who claimed my heart before you, but now I have to forget you too, but this time, there is no want. Tell me when I can remember you again.

Saturday, March 14, 2015

Empty

I am an empty soul
I try to fill my soul with things and people since you have gone
But nothing, no, person, no work, no play, no book, no spiritualism, no comedy, no art, no achievement can soothe my soul the way you did
Some days I earnestly wish that this was not true, but it is
Everything I wrote is true
I cannot find any balm to soothe your absence
I work, laugh, and play, but still I remain an empty soul
Someone is missing
Someone is missing
Someone is missing
You

Such emptiness could be weakness
but I don't see my angst as weakness
It is evidence of your amazing grace
and my ability to recognize it

I miss you
Not for what I thought we were or could be
I just simply miss you, not for ideas or wishes or attention
Just you

Friday, March 13, 2015

Finding the Words

I search far and wide for the words
Have they been spoken before?
Written down?
Thought?
I don't know, but I keep searching

Then I realize that love is more than words
I wish she could see what I see
Feel what I feel
I wish she could know what it is to miss her
I wish she could know what it was like to meet her for the first time a few months ago
I wish she could know what joy it was to call her 
I wish she could know that she matters to me
I wish she could know what it feels like to let her go
I wish she could know that letting her go means that I have to love her more than I did before
I hope she knows that I let her go and still miss her
I hope she knows more joy and happiness than I could give her or receive

I search far and wide for the words that can reach miles and can say what my heart says 

Thursday, March 12, 2015

How Do I know I Love ?

If I need more evidence of my own feelings, all I have to do is look, then my feelings pour through me, my chest tightens and feels hollow. I start to cry. Now I know.

Blessings

The man who is permitted everyday to tell you he loves you is twice blessed. The man who loves you and should not say it is blessed.

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Sometimes, Often

Sometimes I wonder if love gets in the way
Often I wonder this
More precisely, I wonder if confessing of love gets in the way
We had something wonderful
Sure, it wasn't as deep and connected as two lovers
But it was deep and it was blooming
Wasn't it?

We had something wonderful, and for some reason I messed it up
When on that day I confessed my love for you, strangely, this was after I just heard you could not give it!

I sometimes laugh inside at my own idiocy

I often think of myself as selfish

I love you was a selfish confession   

--but of self-less devotion
- but still a selfish act

Wishing I had not said it is also a selfish act

But hiding love can be hazardous for both people involved
But so can ill-timed confessions

I'm sorry I messed up a friendship
I'm sorry I put us both in that stuck place

I'm sorry 

Love's Depth

I will always feel blessed for what we were, 
but sad that we could have been more, 
and hopeful that we can be as before if we cannot be more.

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Distance

I wonder: if I scream loud enough into empty space (in the dark of night, in the light of day) will you hear me?
Would you scream back?
What would you say?

I wonder: Do human voices even transcend the miles between us when they are bare, raw, unaccompanied by cell phones?

What if you never said anything at all?
I would still scream for you
Hoping that after my intense scream has traveled the miles to reach you, its intensity will dissipate and reach you as a gentle wind that comforts your cheek
I am always wind

The wreckage of Longing

Find me in the wreckage of longing
But by the time I am found
I will have built a garden only you and I can see
I will have fashioned it from the joy and pain within me
All cultivated by the presence and absence of you
I will have learned the language and rhythm of a gardener
I will have mastered every single of his skills
This garden will know the color of your name
The flowers will hear the auditory bliss that permeates when your name is spoken
The flowers will know the agony and weight of your absence
The joy of your existence
The joy of seeing you again
The joy of knowing your name
But all of this joy and pain they experience
Does not compare to the bliss and pain that I feel
I am caught in this wreckage of longing

Destined to be a gardener without rain or sun