...beneath these tragic waves
: musings : past : etch : others : speak : h#umor :
resurfacing memories
May 24, 2001

[Part 1: resurfacing memories] [Part 2: memories rebreathe]
For all the things I can never say directly yet are always flooding inside.

I don't want to be one of those 60 year old guys (40 years to go and closing fast) who still talk about their first love and how things "once were" and "could have been". But I will be. I already do.

I can't be happy with the fact you'll always be my first choice and that I'll settle for less. That I'll have to.

I can't appreciate the fact that I learned so much from a broken heart. I did. Your presence and then absence changed and shaped that boy too young to know to hold on. I hope you like who he became.

I can't stop the voices that remind me that when you returned, it seemed anyone who wasn't me was your choice. Be it simply for physical acts or acts of love. As long as it wasn't me. You know I'm not much of one for physical without love but all my rules change when it comes to you. Yet you know I love you, so perhaps that isn't a bending of rules. Better to say I'm not one for physical at night without the words that would bring me to my knees in the morning. Yet they bend...

I hate that we didn't take that trip together. I've never made plans to go with another. It always hurts that you did.

I hurt that when we parted, I didn't hear my love echoed back. I knew I wouldn't.

I despise the reality that I'll never roll over at night and see you there. I miss the comfort you gave, without knowing, against the terrors that torment me in my dreams. I miss the hair that woke me. I never minded. I long for the soft, sleepy mutter telling Neeko to go to sleep. And the kiss goodnight.
As much as I've wanted to show you how much I miss your hands on my skin and your breath on my neck as I sleep, no amount of detail could describe it because no imagination is strong enough to picture it, let alone feel it as I do. No one can fit that fold-out bed the same as you.

I miss catching your scent on my pillow. It started so strong that it filled my head, but that was months ago and the smell has fallen to time. And the smell in your gifts didn't hold on long enough. No, I've never felt silly sleeping under your blanky (that was my only cover in winter) which is half my height nor your polar bear pants. Not even when I locked myself out of the house with only the polar bears and the neighbors huge outdoor party to keep me company.

I pray my honesty doesn't drive you away. I spent too many years closed up and silent. I refuse to censor myself again. Now I can at least say I tried. Because I did. I hope you believe that.

I never meant to cripple your faith in people. Especially not in me.

I'm saddened that, in the end, the only person I have to blame for the hurt is myself.

I hate that I hurt others because I can't let go.

I hurt because I can't let go.

"and I'm haunted by your face; and the memory of your kisses...
do you remember? I still remember so much.
I remember never feeling so alive
Do you remember? I still can't forget your touch.
and we swore that we'd never end
and we swore that we'd never be alone.

I remember always feeling so alive..."

devolve | evolve

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