5.31.11

You.
You're a train that has more stations than rails in my heart.
Songs secretly whisper your sound leaving melody and her companions feeling lonely and forlorn.
You.
You're the trace of lingering fragrance caught in this intersection that finds me passing through; stealing my thoughts and rendering me captured.
You.
You're the keeper of my secrets and now I can't even hear you holding them tight.
You.
You're the color which I won't forget, void, or reassign... Yet can no longer paint with.
You.
You're the memory within the memory folded inside of the dream. Sleep knows no escape.
You.
You're the touch that fingertips recall and the feeling that skin can't shake.

You.
So far from resembling a tragic mistake;
you are the beautiful ache.

Digging in the archives: Behold, a dry and weary land

Questioning the rhythm to which my heart finds its approval I am disquieted within.
Does my joy merely ride behind conditional sighs of relief?

The wells I’m drawing from warn me that they’re empty yet still I pull buckets of thirsty air from their silenced depths.
How long will these hands hold so tightly to the rope which I’ve appointed to save me?

Hunger bruises the walls of my heart in violent protest to emptiness.

I ache.

Will my lips forever defy the cup that’s been so freely set before me?

No, they will not.
This thirst must be quenched.

Farewell

There are varying degrees of goodbye. There is the goodbye that will see you tonight at dinner. There's the goodbye that follows the "Oh, hi! I haven't seen you in a long time. I didn't know you shopped here!" The tearful goodbye confined within the time allotted by the train conductor. The goodbye that says "See i told you that you'd tire of me.." The goodbye that only lovers can know when the beginning of a mere weekend of separation can only leave them feeling bereft. The goodbye that breathes relief at the end of what could only be described as a nuisance. The goodbye that holds the one that you had lost and only just recently found once more. The bittersweet goodbye following the ongoing conflict and the love that stays even when it just can't win the fight. And then there's the goodbye that feels final and forever when 6 feet of earthen clay separates you until eternity finds you reunited.
But what about the long goodbyes? What about the goodbyes that have layers of color and texture that you can't predict? What about the goodbye that lingers, fingers laced in honest denial yet raw acceptance? This is where you trace your goodbye a hundred times, continually refreshing it in your heart and mind.

Catch.
Release.
Catch.
Release.
Catch.
Hold. Hold.
Let go.

I've come to the conclusion that there is no safe goodbye. Rarely will you find true closure in the controlled goodbye that you've so hopefully prescribed. Sometimes the end is just a drawn out intermission cloaked in the pretense of love grown cold.
I wish it was as simple and easy as once said and done. There are times that i wish my goodbyes would stick rather than turn around and say hello again.
My heart would much rather say goodbye while love is still alive, than be saying hello only to find that love has indeed truly died.
But, like I said... there is no safety in goodbye. More often than not, it's just a heartfelt line.