Friday, February 1, 2013

I have a broken heart

    I'm sitting at our library; remember the wooded area out back--the place we'd sneak off to when we wanted to see each other, grasping any moment we could get.  We'd sit on this stupid bench, hold each other and whisper how we'd never be apart.  
    Well, I'm sitting here now . . . all alone.
    I even bought you a coffee.  The steam keeps swirling up and around, kissing my lips when you cannot.  I finally set it under the bench--just can't look at it anymore.
    But no matter if I can see the damn coffee, or you, or anything that should tie us together, I can't get the memories of you from my mind.  And the whole time I'm wondering, was any of it real?  What brought me to the wooded area behind the library anyway, when you'll never be here again?
    Still, I keep glancing back, like we're so damn connected you'll know I'm here.  And by some chance you'll want to be with me, the way I dreamed about being with you.  And give me honesty. And love. And all I deserve because that's what I gave you.
    I left my van on.  The windows are down and a song that reminds me of you is playing.  "I will love you 'til the end of time.  Forever and ever.  I will love you 'til the end of time. . . ." 
    Remember the stream that winds in front of "our" bench? 
 photo Wooded_Stream_zpse5390a6c.jpg 
    We wanted to cross over the glistening waters, but someone had torn the bridge down and we could never get to the other side.
    Well, they've built a new bridge now and the damn thing is so mesmerizing, it practically blurs my vision.
    So I walk up to it, put my hand on the intricate railing and decide to cross.  But then I can't.  Because a realization suddenly hits me.  As I stare through the foggy morning, to the other side of that solid bridge, there's someone on the other side.  And I swear . . . it's you.  The guy looks at me.  Neither one of us cross.  Tears fill my eyes because it's tragically beautiful, just like our love.  We could never cross that bridge.  We could have easily, but somehow we never truly did. . . .

    The man stayed on his side.  I remained on mine.  That damn music kept playing about love and how it'll never end 'til it practically kills me inside.
    So I sat back down on our bench.  I drank your stupid coffee.  And the man on the other side of the water left.  
    Neither one of us crossed.  
    And that's when I knew, it was never meant to be.