a letter written on a sleepless night

did it never cross your mind that all you needed to do was tell me you won't see me nor talk to me anymore, and i really, seriously would have understood? we both could have had peace. was that too much to ask?

was it too hard for you to consider that when people leave suddenly and without goodbyes, they leave large gaping holes in the place where beautiful memories were once cherished?

i want to explain to you how i always found it difficult to trust people, and yet i trusted you. why did you have to do what the others have done? why did you not care whether i understood or not? you see, i would have understood. and i would have let you go with many well-wishes. was a little honesty too precious to spend on me?

you all can tell me that i assumed just a little too much, that you had every right and freedom to leave the way you wanted to. and maybe i won't be able to look you in the eye next time we meet because sometimes even i think those things. but in that part of me where i keep the truth, i will always know what you weren't honest enough to acknowledge nor brave enough to end manfully.

so now i have to live with the lie that has become of my memory of you. and even as i tell people that you are a good man, i don't think i can ever truly believe that again.

Some Nights

Some nights, I hear myself
scream your name into the void
without breaking its silence
Some days I stare
at my palm wishing
I could hit you just once
and not remember you again.

From the Bridges of Madison County

But, I am, after all, a man. And all the philosophic rationalizations I can conjure up do not keep me from wanting you, every day, every moment, the merciless wail of time, of time I can never spend with you, deep within my head.

from My Notebook: Unsent Note

I want to break just a small hole through your walls - just a small one. I want to reach in through the muddles and hollows and touch you somehow. I need to know that when all of this is through, you'll be okay - no, better than okay. You have to be better, less lost, understanding more, happier, more mature, more ready.
I have to touch you somehow, make a difference somehow.
I am bothered by today - hurt and betrayed.
But for as long as I can, I will try.
I cannot let this go to waste - not the tears nor the brokenness, nor the friendship that could have been.
But...
I don't think I can hold out much longer.
So please. Hurry.
-01-21-2009-

Sometimes I

Sometimes I think of hugs

And you opening your arms
A smile on your face, another in my heart

But when I step into your embrace

I stop and turn to ice

Sometimes I close my eyes

And chase dragonflies in my mind

Over hills, across meadows, under rainbows

Till they rest by creeks that you once loved

Then something in me flutters,  writhes, and slowly dies

Sometimes I dream that dream

Of fires lit that never go out

Of clouds drifting into shapes I better love

But winds are such cold, unruly things

And  I awake to find that I dream just a little too much

Sometimes I wonder

About flights and buses and motorcycle rides

And hands held, slumbers taken side by side
About roads hidden beneath cloud and dust

Then fogs lift and dreams end come morning light

lessons the boys taught me

first i learned about pain and loss and how to keep my head afloat. i realized how strong i was.

then i learned reason, that sometimes you need to allow others to suffer and grow. i realized my worth and the power of my will.

after that i learned to dream, to ask for the things that i want, to never settle for less. i realized what i truly wanted and that i am ready to grow up into it.

today, the lesson is patience and faith. i realized that i am ready, but that i must wait and that i must trust that all will be well because i am found.

This Bus Ride

Alone among strangers, you and I

In the dark of a little past midnight

On a bus ride to dawn

Alone with the wind cold on our faces
The traces of fear sleep gently erases

On a bus ride heading home

Dreaming together, waiting for morn

In the silence of slumber, a warmth is born

On a bus ride to dawn

My head on your shoulder, your fingers through mine

On this bus ride to dawn,

On this bus ride heading home

growing up

he's hurting. but he's growing up...

i have to let him have this.