Simple Words And Melodies

Sometimes I wish that someone were here with me now.

A warm body to brush against. Breathing, other than my own, to fill the silence.

And I’m sure that just being here would be enough.

That anything more would be too much.

***

In 2006, my already fragile world was destroyed. In a matter of minutes.

I fainted at first. Then, I laughed out of shock.  Then I defended the betrayer, at my expense.

It was—is—far more than I’ve ever had the courage to explain. It is something I dread explaining to the person that’s around long enough to deserve an explanation

That’s how the chips fell.  It was my trust that was irreparably damaged. Four lonely years later, I know for sure it was, indeed, irreparable. 

My only confidante is this page, full of the words I wish I could speak to that warm, breathing body. Which sometimes, in a moment of bravado, with trembling hands and a sour stomach, I have the courage to share with strangers and associates and friends.  

***

Other times not.

The nots are not good for my sanity. I am eaten up on the inside. And I lay in this room with simple words and melodies playing on repeat.

And I pray for sleep. Or the courage to speak. Or to forget.

All of my excitement about this new life complete with my own place and agenda are tainted by the right now. These reality pangs.

 No matter how great the day, there is always a lonely night with more longing than I can handle gracefully.

***

 Sometimes, I wish that I were full.

That the nights were as pleasant as the days.

That I knew which parts of me were real and which are just remnants of the destruction, waiting to be sifted.