I understand how you feel.
I know I’m not always there
and it’s not that I don’t want to be
but sometimes I question.
Why did you stop here
in the place we first met
feeding the birds by the shore?
I wanted to hold your hand.
To look into those deep eyes and confess how I felt about you.
How I still feel about you
but I went home that day and I cried.
I don’t understand why.
Why the first rays of light on a warm summers day
can be so comforting but yet inside I still feel so cold.
Is it here that you stopped because you remember that day
or just a fleeting glimpse of a shadow moving in the distance
the slinking ghost of a bittersweet moment?
It is a curious thing
how such an invisible weight can bear down upon our shoulders
but when you try to carry my load I feel different.
Albeit a nice relief I know of no other way
and I return the weights and carry on.
Do you know how it feels?
The pain of these conflicting emotions
so powerful and deep
but not being able to do as little as stand.
Those tears; they were not of regrets
but the dust of a blade as it grew dull.
When I was young I didn’t know such feelings
but they overwhelm me now
consume me and leave an empty shell of flesh.
I remember a day, such a distant memory
of a time when I cared so deeply for the things around me.
When I was happy and everything was so simple
and I didn’t understand when my mother was mad.
Such unnecessary stress.
And as I grew older I started to feel a pain deep in my gut
the swirling of a stew inside me as waves of emotion crashed upon the shore of my bones.
Every morning it would greet me.
Soon the days were not so carefree anymore.
The moment was gone.
The soul had left and that tide decided not to recede.
My life was over, I could not break free.
what was to become of me?
As I floated through this sea it occurred to me
that it would always be there.
A grim friend to keep me sane
in this haze of middle age mediocrity.
My grades suffered; you moved on
as I stayed back and waved goodbye.
I couldn’t hold the job, it just wasn’t in me.
Staying home everyday wouldn’t make the pay.
And I didn’t have enough for the rent
but it didn’t matter to me.
I lay in bed for a week
and trashed the room before I left.
Walking down the street, no where to go.
I see you across the street.
High heels and a sense of dignity like I had never seen in you before.
Stumbling to your feet I reach out
but you push me away.
Looking in those eyes I see now that you don’t remember.
You don’t remember that we met here many years ago.
The cold is beginning to overtake me now
but I feel strange, a feeling I vaguely remember
from a long time ago.
I am warm
and I see my old dog, Buddy.
I look up to the snowy sky and reach out to him.
It’s okay now Bud, I feel fine.
I’m coming home.
Is it too late, ma?