“The season is calling and your pictures are falling down”

I think I’m numb. The fall to the floor, gut wrenching, aspects of love are not part of my current relationship. Last night, in the dark glow of the television, I watched as Minnie Driver collapsed in her Harvard dorm room while Matt Damon said he didn’t love her. I used to be this way, I would lay listless as tears streamed down my face. I would cower in the shower, the hot water and hot tears falling together, inseparable. But now I make dinner, I do the dishes, I sweep the floor. He has a beer, plays Halo, laughs.

I am numb. I look at him with perplexity. How did we get here? Is this suburbia or just acquiescence? Because it is terribly senseless. I wish to feel again, I wish to fall on my knees and cry to the stars for answers again. I know I’ve fallen to the ground and tried to drown in my own tears for him before so why has my passionate captivation subsided for domestication?

My dreams hold no answers only hours of distraction.

We Never Danced, never

I can feel my soul yearn for you. While my mind says give it up, it is over, my soul feels ever so deeply rooted to you. Its sickening this uncontrollable obsession, stupid one-sided obsession. I try to remember there will be another lifetime in which our souls will meet again. And yet it is in this lifetime, this life today that I suffer thinking through the mistakes I made with you and how I have yet to save to you.

“Hope it's not too late
We were more than friends
I can hardly wait
'Til we meet again.”

It ought not be this way. I should forget you but you make it less than easy to do so. With your careless ways I cant help but care; about you, about what you do, what you think. Mostly if you think of me. And my rational says no. No he doesn’t think of me. No he doesn’t think in romantic phrases that have our soul intertwined like the roots of a flowerbed. No he doesn’t think of me. No.

Shake me up, let the crazy thoughts of my snow globe life fall in a different pattern. Let this thought, this elusive selective memory be buried by the plastic pieces of now, today, and tomorrow.

“There’s no place like home to make me feel alone”

Once again I fell under his smoky spell. Just when I thought I had risen above my old obsessions I found myself wrestling in his sheets after midnight. He responds with blankness, he no longer feels for me the way I seem to want for his attention. He is melancholy while I push buttons that I know are infallible. Less begging this year, more of an understanding, a Christmas tradition if you will.

And now I wait for my in house love to return, I wait with little remorse. Have I no heart? Or is it that I have too much heart, too many feelings? Too much feeling, touching. What now? I tend to be destructive in idle love, I need a jump start and I doubt Disneyworld will fill the void but I’ll give it a try.

Happy Birthday
Happy New Year
Another year full of hope on the horizon and yet I doubt it will be much different. Same listlessness, same absentminded philandering. More heart, less soul. More soul, less body.
Wishes, dreams and mostly schemes.

Looking for more information on the Moons

Maybe I’ll just go and cry alone at all of our love and everything I still think I'm missing. You are my beautiful being, the sleeper to my dreamer, the rock to my waves and yet with all that has and is becoming I feel lonely and still a little lost. I wish to slow dance to scratched records under twinkle lights with you while you want for television glow and hoppy beverages. Where and how have we made this happy medium my love? You have taken the crazed look from my eyes and replaced it with a glazed love-drunk stare. You saved me from myself and I only hope I have saved enough of myself to be eternally Me.

Two months later: giving up the old Obsessions and It's Love again

Listening to Built to Spills “Car” and thinking of the old days where I relished in our awkwardness and my keen ability to seem completely insane but be in total control of our relationship. I have done my best in these last months to break my lasting vice of the old Him. Small successes have been made and I am proud that the turmoil that these thoughts and obsessions were causing has subsided like the staunch heat of summer.

I once again find myself in what should be autumn and yet no leaves have changed here and my sweater speaks only of the incessant air conditioning.

Most importantly Love has grown from where there was only a dry well. A lovely babbling brook of laughter and joy, smiles where there were tears and a clenched jaw, conversation where there was silent resentment, lust where there was disgust, companionship where there was deceit, trust where there were glares of jealousy but most importantly Love, again, from a best friend.