Sometimes I wish I could capture all the thoughts and memories that I had while I was with you, to bundle them up nice and neat to be taken out and felt again when I want. Right now they come as flashes of feelings and thought. The sound of birds on a peaceful morning. Rain outside the window. The dewy newness of spring in the air. A far off dream in a different land.
Flashes of yesterday.
Sometimes I want to step into an old conversation, just to think and feel the way that I used to. I wish that a normal conversation could be held again, between me and you.
Now the only conversations we've had are of stilted points of view, separate thoughts coming from separate worlds, is there any way to understand each other now?
I am selfish in that I wanted a continuing and easy friendship with you. Minds speaking the truth without the truth becoming a barrier to the heart.
I've come to realize that the heart wishes for endless days of fancy. Intimate nothings. Not intellectual brazenness, sophistry. The heart sees the beauty of the soul and discards the chattel of appearance. But then again, love is quite the complicated thing.
Beauty of mannerisms, beauty of similarity, beauty of differences. Calmness of mind, humor and appearance. Throwing off of unintentional barbs, or bleeding out and dying, death of a love that could have been.
Originally posted 2/19/14
Flashes of yesterday.
Sometimes I want to step into an old conversation, just to think and feel the way that I used to. I wish that a normal conversation could be held again, between me and you.
Now the only conversations we've had are of stilted points of view, separate thoughts coming from separate worlds, is there any way to understand each other now?
I am selfish in that I wanted a continuing and easy friendship with you. Minds speaking the truth without the truth becoming a barrier to the heart.
I've come to realize that the heart wishes for endless days of fancy. Intimate nothings. Not intellectual brazenness, sophistry. The heart sees the beauty of the soul and discards the chattel of appearance. But then again, love is quite the complicated thing.
Beauty of mannerisms, beauty of similarity, beauty of differences. Calmness of mind, humor and appearance. Throwing off of unintentional barbs, or bleeding out and dying, death of a love that could have been.
Originally posted 2/19/14
This is a lovely piece of writing and I suspect you are speaking of a real situation. I long for conversations from the past, but wishing and longing doesn't make it happen. Why does love have to be so complicated?
ReplyDeletehugs my friend
xoxoxo ♡
xoxoxo ♡
Thank you Dianne. So glad to see your comment. :)
ReplyDelete