Last night I dreamed you into being once more.
I dreamed that you returned to me - dropped off by your elder sister; reluctantly entrusted to me again. You were weak, delicate, even paler than usual. And I thought, 'Oh, how awkward. However will I accommodate these two men?' - the man I chose to open my heart to after thirteen years and the one who returned from the dead after thirteen years.
I know why you're here. I've brought you back from the dead to fight for me; to convince me that if I can't be with you, then I should only be with a man who's too broken to love me in return. Or alone. I know that you come to me as the pathetically textbook product of survivor guilt. I know that you are me.
Because if it were really you, you'd kiss me on the forehead and tell me to move on; love; live. Be happy. Be whole.
Then you'd say, 'Boo Radley' to kill the moment.
We made a promise to one another; a pact to live or die as one. I need to remember that it was you who broke that pact; not me. It was you who made that awful mistake.
I am so sorry that I was there in your madness with you; consumed by the pain of living. But if I hadn't been there, wouldn't you have felt yet more alone? Maybe I'm not sorry then. Maybe.
I know too well that these aren't the last tears I'll shed for you. If I live a hundred years or one, there will always be another reason to grieve.
Still missing you, Boo.
I dreamed that you returned to me - dropped off by your elder sister; reluctantly entrusted to me again. You were weak, delicate, even paler than usual. And I thought, 'Oh, how awkward. However will I accommodate these two men?' - the man I chose to open my heart to after thirteen years and the one who returned from the dead after thirteen years.
I know why you're here. I've brought you back from the dead to fight for me; to convince me that if I can't be with you, then I should only be with a man who's too broken to love me in return. Or alone. I know that you come to me as the pathetically textbook product of survivor guilt. I know that you are me.
Because if it were really you, you'd kiss me on the forehead and tell me to move on; love; live. Be happy. Be whole.
Then you'd say, 'Boo Radley' to kill the moment.
We made a promise to one another; a pact to live or die as one. I need to remember that it was you who broke that pact; not me. It was you who made that awful mistake.
I am so sorry that I was there in your madness with you; consumed by the pain of living. But if I hadn't been there, wouldn't you have felt yet more alone? Maybe I'm not sorry then. Maybe.
I know too well that these aren't the last tears I'll shed for you. If I live a hundred years or one, there will always be another reason to grieve.
Still missing you, Boo.
This made my heart beat very fast.
ReplyDelete::shiver::
ReplyDeleteso well written....
sending you waves of love..
This touches every place in my soul.
ReplyDeletea big hug. this is beautifully sad and sweet. i dig your writing...
ReplyDeleteThat's a lasting kind of hurt. Makes me think about impermanence in a nostalgic kind of way.
ReplyDeleteSuch an touching, provocative post. While I have no knowledge of what it is about, I can use my imagination. Even better than knowledge. Nice writing.
ReplyDeleteOh my God. Wow .. it's, just - I can't find the right words to tell you how I felt reading that. I'm not even sure I know.
ReplyDeleteThank you. Just, magnificent.
Who ARE you? Do you want to collaborate on something, one day? Wow.
xo
This is just amazing. Amazing.
ReplyDelete