Desperation is a lovers’ game
The worst part is that I could spend every second with you and still crave more.
But I know you don’t feel the same.
We went out to the bridge to look at the stars.
Just the sounds of the wild and the wind and our breathing.
Soon the sounds faded, and the stars started to fall.
Slowly, on paper thin strings they lowered themselves to me.
And for a moment- just a moment-
I could touch the stars.
I fell and skinned my knee today…
It’s okay.
The clouds were worth it.
I could study you forever and still find new things to love.
You’re the book they’ve read a million times.
Your pages are dog-eared.
Sentences underlined.
Words are circled.
Your pages run ragged.
Your cover is worn.
They read you because they love you.
You made them feel something.
But now that you’re old, and they know your words by heart, It’s understandable feeling like they might go look for a new book.
And maybe they will.
Maybe that book will be perfect.
Cover glossy and pages unmarred.
But she will never be you.
And their mind will always return to the book that made them who they are today.
It’s an author’s worst nightmare when the words run out.
When the pain is too much to express.
When thoughts are trapped inside a mind that’s pushing them out to a mouth that refuses to form the right shape, and a throat that chokes them down.
When the one thing in life that keeps you sane is driving you crazy.
Even after you say you’re not coming…
I’m still waiting
Hoping you’ll surprise me.
When love becomes a chore, it is no longer love.
I was always too careful.
You were never careful enough.
©2019
