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a chaotic gift to idealism
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i was left behind on this hot day. no pain had filled my existenc like this. I know my pain is brought on by loss. The question I am left with, sitting here in the dark, is which loss do i mourn.
I cry for my love. She has gone way. I cry because my love has lost her love for me. She has gone away.
I can hear it in your voice. I can see it in your disconcern. The lack of words spoken, speak out to me, telling me what has happened.
I write all that I feel. i write now, that you have gone away. That what lived only a day ago, has left you. Am I to be one more chump, some fallen dream of endless happiness, born again from a time it was left behind, only to die once more.
Everything said was truth. Everything said was from the deepest places inside of me. I spoke of love and good things that could come. I spoke of what would kill to give to you. I spoke only what was true from what is me. Every word was complete and ment in it's fullest.
I hope I have not gone wrong. I hope you do come back to me.
Your home is your home. No matter where you go or what you do. You can always return to your home. My heart is your home.
You make me speak of things I do not speak of. You make me feel things I do not feel. You make me feel good and complete. you make me smile smiles that hold no false feelings. You make me want you.
I have only time now. Time to tell what will happen to not only us but, what I will do with myself. I am back to being alone now with no sign of anyone who understands. I have been thrown out of the car and left astray. I walk on until I find my home.
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050612
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