on writing true…
I gotta get it out and it’s going on paper.
I am me independent of you.
I am so full of joy and pain
love and fear
and it just can’t live inside of here
anymore.
it’s gotta go, refrain from writing itself over and over in a reserved and cute form for a stranger’s approval…when it really cries to scream and feel and let go and hang on and admit the fucking truth to your face. between us. my truth from my corner of this goddamn invisible room where I don’t belong.
I don’t know that I’ll ever see you again. It is likely it won’t happen. But that’s okay because what I have been given doesn’t require your witness. If its life depended on validation, it would have shriveled up and died a long time ago.
I admit I’ve tried to terminate it, file it away under D for denial.
I try. I try to discourage what I know, thinking of history’s fools in love. Realizing how foolish I could appear in the eyes of those injured souls judging something they had not the depth to understand. Oh how much it hurt at the time, how much I despised and pitied their ignorance.
I knew my place. They did not.
but None of this matters. If I hit SELECT ALL and DELETE, it would not matter. These words are here for documentation that I lived, that you lived, and that I will love you as God has shown me because you are part of my life. You can’t take that away from me. No one can.
But in the absence of these printed words, this sentiment will never be gone. It lives on as an extension of me and the life God gave it because I allowed myself to believe. In Him. In you. I will never be the person I was before I knew you. I have no choice in that matter. I embrace it tonight and accept it into the fold of my experiences that helped create me.
You may never stand before me again. Not physically, but it’s okay because I was there and I knew it and I saw it and it excited my soul; you – the key to my jammed lock, no, the hammer that smashed the cage that hid me behind an image someone placed on me.
I was there at birth. I felt it. I knew it. I was an observer and a healer from a young age. I know nothing else. I spend more time in one day now blocking, ignoring what I know, see, feel, watch. No one to hear me. No one to listen.
Knowing YOU…the gentle soul behind the destroyed exterior watching when they thought you were sleeping…waiting for someone to see you. To know.
I forgave you before I met you. My world slammed to a halt as I tried to put every square peg neatly into its round hole, accepting and waiting for the rest of the tale. Input. Information. I learned to shut up from my dark room, and listen, absorbing your presence and experiencing your energy.
It can be second only to touching God’s face, looking into the eyes of your own soul. sparkling blue eyes staring through you so deeply it would be embarrassing with anyone else but when it’s him… you… it is joy and love and there is no fear, only knowledge.
A level of language exists in space requiring no words, never to be erased, burned into my beating heart, belonging only to me. And God.
Say anything you want. Disappear into your new life and play the part that sustains you. But know that I know. I don’t need your touch. I don’t need your public declaration, explanation… permission.
Because I know your eyes
and all that hides behind them.
I never loved anyone so completely until heaven taught me I can survive the pain.
Mlh March 20, 2020
Signs of Life 