A Note On The Docks

I will not be forgotten.

Sitting here I demand this, will myself not to be matched by insanity, to not let doubt seep into my pores and crush my spirit. I will love and be loved, wholeheartedly understanding that pain will often come, but that pain will remind me of what it means to be alive, what it means to have passion and to suffer. I will not lament myself, cry over what has past or what I will become. I will forgive because at one time I did love, and I will mourn that lost love, because there is nothing more beautiful than that, nothing that could possibly compare to the majesty that envelops us as we love, over and over and over again.

If I had loved you better perhaps we would not be here. Perhaps I would not be sitting alone watching the stars I would be watching them with you, my head on your chest as you stroke my hair, as you laugh or complain about the bugs that are everywhere here or maybe as we kiss under the absence of moonlight we would talk about the family we would have like we used to. You would promise me a good life full of love and light, you would promise me happiness and understanding and you would hold my hand and kiss my wrists before pulling me closer. But we are not here together, we are not sitting under the stars, and all the promises have been broken. And I wonder to myself why this is the image that come to my mind when I think of you because we never laughed under the stars, not once.

You always said you didn’t have time or it was too far or too hot. We never built a snowman together, we never went dancing, we never laughed with each other until we cried. And yet there is this hole in my heart, this place that caused me to write those words to you. To tell you that I forgive you. I forgive you for lying to me, I forgive you for only buying me flowers when I asked or when you had done something wrong. I forgive you for not loving me right, for not holding my hand, for not being under the stars with me anymore. I am remembering a you from so long ago, sneaking into pools and making love in hotel rooms that had too many beds. I am missing the you that would never leave me. Don’t come on too strong.

That’s what you said, I don’t want to come on too strong. How I wish you would have now. How I wish I could have stayed loving you, how I wish I could stop wondering why you stopped loving me like that. Why you stopped trying to make me feel special and loved and like your best friend. How can something so beautiful just die like that. How can it just die so suddenly and yet so slowly, that I feel as if I saw every warning and was just as surprised by the end result. I thought you could change, because I’m my mind you had changed once, and maybe you could go back. Why does this happen? Why do we fall in love and then out of love. Why do we love someone and stop loving them? Why did you stop loving me.

I wrote all this out, but I didn’t send it. I didn’t pour my heart out,  instead I sent seven words. Thinking that would be best, that too much honesty would be something I regretted later. Something that I would wish I hadn’t done. The question of why became palpable, especially when my phone dinged with a response from you, a short answer to a short message, thanking me for being as wonderful as I am. And as I sat there, the water quietly sweeping over me, the surrounding areas pitch black except for the little blue screen in front of me, I knew i had begun something new, something different. I picked myself up and made my way back to the sand, and I took that letter and buried it, under a tree somewhere, I couldn’t tell you exactly. And I left you. I left you there, and maybe one day I will come back, and maybe I won’t. 

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