Love letter # 241
It’s the things you don’t prepare for that get through. That picture of you popping up on my slideshow. You reading the card I gave you, wearing the scarf I bought you. How could I have known that I would never hold you again?
I believed we were closer than ever on that day. I thought that after all our struggles we had made it – that we had finally found a way to make our desires and our personas live together. I recall the way you looked up at me after reading whatever romantic gush it was I had scrawled in that card and your eyes were full of tender welcome.
Yet within a week it was over. Not officially – but I felt the cord snap – saw that the walls you built around you were higher than ever. Perhaps because I got too close and it seemed too real. And I got sad and you got defensive and everything rolled out the way it did.
I wonder if we are the better for it now. Wiser, happier? Or just resigned? (Is there a difference?)
All I know is that I saw you just now – pixels on my screen, rooms in my heart – and I was set on fire. The song is right: there is a light that never goes out. And it’s you.