There's someone out there I always think of running into. Someone I loved and lost, someone who's very memory makes my heart skip a beat in needless anticipation of meeting her on some nameless street corner and falling back in love, or taking hold of some long awaited closure.
The last thing we said to each other was, 'We'll talk about this later.' After two years, countless disagreements redeemed by unconditional love, laughter, solidarity, understanding, unlimited patience. We spoke to each other on the telephone with no where else to go and said, 'We'll talk about this later.'
We never spoke again.
She made me emotional, taught me how to feel deeply. How to uncover the depths of who I'm meant to be, taught me to live as real as possible. She made me vulnerable, honest about who I am, taught me to be confident in the way I see the world. She made me shrug off jealous insults, taught me to be the bigger person.
I dream about her now. Nights interrupted by images of us. I see picture frames graced with our faces; optimistic, smiling, brimming with love. I see us taking long walks. Long drives. Vacations. I wonder if we could possibly have that same kind of naivety and be together, if it would work out now as adults having learned from our mistakes.
Not a day goes by that I don't think of her, expect to see her across a crowd, be reunited in some airport terminal as we both depart for far off places on opposite sides of the globe.
I think of having coffee together, reminiscing. Our laughter overflowing from places kept secret from present day loves, momentarily slipping back into our shared past and finding peace. I think about closure, how I might not be able to really replace her and our memories until we actually talk about it later.
Then I wake up.
The last thing we said to each other was, 'We'll talk about this later.' After two years, countless disagreements redeemed by unconditional love, laughter, solidarity, understanding, unlimited patience. We spoke to each other on the telephone with no where else to go and said, 'We'll talk about this later.'
We never spoke again.
She made me emotional, taught me how to feel deeply. How to uncover the depths of who I'm meant to be, taught me to live as real as possible. She made me vulnerable, honest about who I am, taught me to be confident in the way I see the world. She made me shrug off jealous insults, taught me to be the bigger person.
I dream about her now. Nights interrupted by images of us. I see picture frames graced with our faces; optimistic, smiling, brimming with love. I see us taking long walks. Long drives. Vacations. I wonder if we could possibly have that same kind of naivety and be together, if it would work out now as adults having learned from our mistakes.
Not a day goes by that I don't think of her, expect to see her across a crowd, be reunited in some airport terminal as we both depart for far off places on opposite sides of the globe.
I think of having coffee together, reminiscing. Our laughter overflowing from places kept secret from present day loves, momentarily slipping back into our shared past and finding peace. I think about closure, how I might not be able to really replace her and our memories until we actually talk about it later.
Then I wake up.
--borrowed from trailerparkjesus
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