A Confession of Needful Love

Dear ...,

I have no idea why I'm writing this. Its not an excuse or a pretext to say what I'm about to say. I really thought about it since I last saw you, and I came up with nothing. No good reason to tell you what I felt at that moment.. what I have been feeling since. That moment when you said those words.. calmly and without so much as taking a pause. Like you always do. I guess, that would be one of the things about you that made me stop and take stock of my heart, skipping a beat with each sound that left your lips.

You are not innocent. A word that can be casually thrown in with the many others that come to my spinning, aching mind when I think of you, but no.. I have to be honest with myself before I'm honest with you. There is a difference between innocence and purity.

And whether you will admit it or not, that's what you are. Pure. Not a hint of pretension or deception in a molecule of your being. Not a care as to whether the world that has been so cruel to you, took you in now. Now that you are beautiful and strong. Now that you are capable of saying no.. and yes. The world that didn't shelter you when you lost everything. Your childhood. Your sense of self.

I don't want to dwell on that. Not on paper, not in my thoughts. I must admit, it hurts me. Even as a vague fragmented piece of my imagination, it feels like someone is coldly carving in to my heart, the image of you shedding helpless tears. If only I had been there. To tell you that it would be okay. To hold you, to gently wipe away your tears. If you had let me, of course. I don't know. I like to think that you would have. It helps me cope, I suppose. Why do I feel so helpless even in my thoughts of you? How do you do this to me? How could you?

When you walked in to that room, carelessly running your fingers through your hair, unaware of the eyes moving to you, that stayed on you.. wanting.. feeling things, dismissive of their arrogance in thinking they could have you, did you see me? No, I suppose you couldn't have. Or maybe you wouldn't have. To you, I'm just one of many. Not in your world. Not deserving of your soulful glances. Your caring, affectionate words.

Why are you? It feels cruel to ask you that. I should be the happiest, luckiest person alive that you do. But know that it comes not out of selfish pride but out of a pitiful need to be with you, and knowing I never can. Forgetting for one carefree, naive second that I don't deserve you, I have to cower before the terrifying, soul crushing fact that you were meant for someone else. Do you hate me? Please tell me you do. Show me that much mercy. So that I can find comfort in the fact that it was never meant to be. And not despair in the heartbreak you have pushed me in to... unintentionally and unfeelingly.

No. It's not in you to do that. To be that. In spite of all that you are.. that they think you are. You know how to love. Maybe it's the one thing you do know well, without doubt or hesitant restraint. To love someone or something with the whole of your being. To be vulnerable. It is your most beautiful quality. To open yourself to joy, when you have known so much sadness. To actually, truly feel that you deserve to be happy. To be held and loved, like you are the only thing in this colorless, dreary world that exists.

I'm sorry, and will always be, that I took my eyes off of you. I couldn't put myself through that anymore. I knew you would be happy.. loved.. I hoped you would be. Or maybe it's the cowardice in me that speaks so confidently on your behalf.

I don't know who wrote you or who portrayed you. I don't want to. That would mean you.. or part of you would stop existing. To me.. you are real. Perhaps the only real person I have ever known. I refuse to let go of you. Don't I deserve that much at least?

Maybe one day, when I'm strong enough, I will watch you again. Watch you move, speak and sing in that deceptive voice that soothes my the wounds of my still healing heart. Maybe even watch you fall in love and then, struggling within my very wretched self, watch you be loved.. even if it's by someone else.

So, I guess this is goodbye.. for now. Thank you for coming in to my life. And then choosing to stay forever in my heart.

Yours lovingly,
A man in the dark.

Now.. to the guys..which fictional character came to your mind? Where they your first crush? Your first innocent, helpless love?

Colors of Omission

Bright colors yet to be painted everywhere.. the beige-grey walls of my spinning, humming prison cell screaming out to me, beckoning my senses in seductive whispers and commanding screams holding my transient glances hostage with their mocking bare surfaces. Cold, bland, flawed surfaces.....inviting the touch of my soft, poison stained fingertips, conniving creations that emerge in glorious insolence and bastard pride, vengefully magnificent now.. forgetting the cautious and careful movements of my trembling, cracked hands making them whole brick by brick, as the music of my languishing youth played sweet nothings from the hot, shiny light outside.. flickering flames of elusive smiles and spiteful tears burning away against the short, warm breezes of inadequacy and contempt as the walls came to life or birthed themselves in death - brick by brick.. by my drunk, wiry arms.. moving numb to the sway of my wet, drowning memories of slithering dissent against the snide, reproachful words of passionate love and sneering fury crawling out of the thin slits in the white masks of shadows that danced around me.. the glowing embers of my dark visions now ashen in the corners of my cell, lying smoldering and fuming with unsaid red, and breathless blue of careless kisses, fading green of naked envy.. silken brushes of cruel shards breaking away from thoughtless moments dipping in them, moist strands poised to paint the hopeful crevices with insidious desires.. 

Manifesto of Intent

I'm exhausted by the sheer velocity and intensity by which these shades of emotions wash over my dull senses. My mind fights to regain balance as the floodgate of unsaid words crumble before the sublime and delightfully desirous feelings dancing across the spectrum of possibilities that wet my scorched conscience. To love and to hate is a sweet manifestation of the duality of what is human. And whatever I was, I am and could be.. I am but that - human. A simple and effortless realization of vulnerability and humility before that which is beyond the reach of my ambitious intellect. Those moments of overpowering stillness that where once mine and might be again. To want to possess time itself, as the content of those moments are unnaturally cruel to me, and control my instincts and actions like a vindictive temptress enslaving a feeble, lustful mind. So I choose to attempt to translate those fiercely potent emotions and the soft shapes they mold from the sands and waters forming my rich, sensory plains in to words that should be said and could be read. To try to capture their elusiveness from the dark shadows like a forlorn hunter admiring its agile prey. But make no mistake.. as I'm writing, or in the thoughts that precede, I am never sure of which is it that is masterfully reigning my mind.. the observer or the observed.. the thinker or the painter..I hereby lay down my crown and scepter, and bow down, admitting defeat and in devotion, to my humanity.