I suppose I've been avoiding really writing out my thoughts to you.
I think because I have so many conflicting emotions that they've
simply voided each other out, the negative and the positive becoming
nonexistent
until I feel deeply, so very deeply, of nothing .
What do I feel now? Sadness that we had to suffer?
Happiness that your voice once again reverberates through the walls of my soul?
I sit here, examining and trying to pry some meaning out of this
numbness. What is the shape of our love?
The curve of my lips? The turn of your shoulder?
The billowing, choking fluffiness of your silence?
For so long I have stumbled around in the darkness searching
for any slight remembrance of you that could bring you back,
moments spent in the confusion and emptiness of years.
Days spent in an eternity of loss.
But now I see eternity may have an end afterall
and seeing this end in my peripheral, I am astonished.
Possibly even discomforted at seeing a definition so quickly
transition. Do I dare? Do I dare? Do I dare?
Loving you must be a sin because I have so thoroughly been punished.
And now you ask for my thoughts--or a tiny morsel of my soul.
I have this theory about sighs.
One acquires an emotion or even a thought
that so effectively steals their breath away that they never realize
that they've been robbed. And when the pain,
the agony and confusion of such an intense loss,
finally brings to their attention that something's missing,
they sigh, for lack of anything better to do,
for lack of a solution, or release.
In doing so, they try to expel the deeply attached emotion
so that they don't feel quite so much.
But I can tell you that it simply doesn't work
because you've been expelled about
one-hundred eighty-three and a half times. See the kicker is,
you return to haunt me with each newly drawn breath.
My thief. You steal my breath away all over again.