So, life has let up, if only momentarily. What significance does that have for you, dear reader?
When life lets up, I reciprocate by cleaning, re-organizing, and being ready for the next rush. As such, I’ve dug through my archives, and found some rather delightful curiosities. My favorite of which is an odd, epically-styled broken hearted love poem from some time ago.
It feels unfinished, so I feel compelled to finish it within the week, and place it here.
Speaking of things I’d imagine I should be compelled to finish… here’s Untitled, Part II.
I woke up early to go to our park. It’s a small park, with miniature hills and brass benches, a few dog-walkers who never leave, and our spot. It’s nothing special; just a small patch of grass, exactly six feet from the road.
He took me here on our first date. I teased him and called him crazy: he admitted it, and kept smiling.
And then he said something, and I said something, and it was one of those conversations that you never remember how it started, but you always remember how it ended. “You know, I think you’re crazy too,” he said with a smile.
It was the way that he said it. His voice was calm and gentle. And his laugh – his laugh was like a cannon going off.
And…I miss him.
I miss him so much.
We were going to get married, too. That’s what hurts the most; the fact that I’m only twenty-three, and I don’t think I’ll ever love a man that deeply again.
I don’t want to die, but I can’t live without him.
All in all, it has been an excellent week for me, and I hope yours was good as well. The ideas for other projects are flowing, and life continues to inspire.