i decided once that i was going to coax my heart back
from my sleeve to the bones that protect it.
for a while this seemed--
not really comfortable, but safe.
and we all like just a touch of security, don't we?
and i guess that maybe one day i realized that it wasn't
other people or ideas or the air around me that was breaking me,
but myself. and i do this, sometimes, still. you've caught me in those
moments. or to be more exact, i've looked for (and found) you in
those moments--when i'm feeling less than whole and i'm
listening for sounds of breaking in the overwhelming quiet.
it's always easier to find your way with someone,
but you are truly never more lost without them.
memories can do strange things. i've gone
over what-ifs and could've beens in my
mind until i was sure that i was quite mad.
these thoughts are, i think, a sort of malady that
both people with intense guilt and people heartbroken
because they're sure that they cared too much share.
and i don't know, really, what i'm trying to convey with all of this...
these words and ideas and bits of thought that are all
a little disconnected. i've been doing so well
these past couple of weeks and that almost manic feeling
of wanting not really to fix the world but to share a piece of the sky and
say a few words that last longer than that night or the next day...
i want to do something that matters and with you--i feel a
little helpless. maybe not always, but right now. yes.
i don't care to be hugged when i'm shaking from
the inside. i assume, wrongly i know, that everyone
feels what i do and how i do. know, though, that i am wanting
right now, to offer more than words--a hug or a lap to put your head in
and words or silence, whichever makes it less difficult to breathe.
you've been more of a friend than you could know. take care
of your heart, please. don't misuse it and don't neglect it.
given to you,
saved for me.
(i needed it)