How do I know when we're done, if ever? We spend on opposite sides of a landmass, of a seemingly immovable space between us?
me || you
The simple questions of whether I love you goes beyond the yes and no, the black and the white. I have loved you more than I ever thought described the term; all encompassing, overbearing that threatened to take over all that was me at times.
Now I'm unsure how I feel, and which person: the memory or the living, breathing human? You can't live with a ghost, you can't grow old with your past. At one point in my life, I would have chosen death over being separated from you. Now, I've chosen not to see you when I had the opportunity. It's just too soon; I can't put my feelings together into some semblance of a lucid idea. My emotions run ragged over the spectrum when it comes to you. I lack the knowledge or ability to organize them.
You represent so much of what I miss, have cried over for endless days and nights. Or do you? Are you this amazing if flawed counterpart to myself or just my Nadja, a dream constructed by my searching mind? My answer differs depending on the weather, the day of the week, if I ate breakfast that particular morning. There is some sort of feeling hidden inside me for you, but I can't figure out if it is the remnants or the rebirth of love. Can it be rebuilt or should it be left in the ruins?
All I know for certain is that innocence is gone. I cannot pretend that scars have not formed. Some days I feel it may be better to toss you aside, begin anew. Other days, I can't imagine life without you. Maybe one day the answer will appear.
me || you
The simple questions of whether I love you goes beyond the yes and no, the black and the white. I have loved you more than I ever thought described the term; all encompassing, overbearing that threatened to take over all that was me at times.
Now I'm unsure how I feel, and which person: the memory or the living, breathing human? You can't live with a ghost, you can't grow old with your past. At one point in my life, I would have chosen death over being separated from you. Now, I've chosen not to see you when I had the opportunity. It's just too soon; I can't put my feelings together into some semblance of a lucid idea. My emotions run ragged over the spectrum when it comes to you. I lack the knowledge or ability to organize them.
You represent so much of what I miss, have cried over for endless days and nights. Or do you? Are you this amazing if flawed counterpart to myself or just my Nadja, a dream constructed by my searching mind? My answer differs depending on the weather, the day of the week, if I ate breakfast that particular morning. There is some sort of feeling hidden inside me for you, but I can't figure out if it is the remnants or the rebirth of love. Can it be rebuilt or should it be left in the ruins?
All I know for certain is that innocence is gone. I cannot pretend that scars have not formed. Some days I feel it may be better to toss you aside, begin anew. Other days, I can't imagine life without you. Maybe one day the answer will appear.
No comments:
Post a Comment