love//the words

you sat next to me.  it was something small to you, but it was something ever so large to me.  you sat next to me.  i sighed with relief.  i kept finding ways, small ways, to look at you.  to see your face, to watch your focus, to feel your warmth.  i crossed my legs and tilted my gaze so that you were in my peripheral.  i opened my journal and i wrote.  you opened your book and you read.  and i thought to myself, everyday could be like this.

it was a lofty thought.  to consider this, me and you, what we could be...forever.  forever.

and sometimes it felt like more than forever.  it was those moments, scattered as they were, that you were aware of me.  that you felt with me.  that you listened to me. that you called me.  that you waited for me.  that you sat with me.

it was profound.  it changed me. for the better, than for the worst, but ultimately for the better.

i remember you said, "you get too pensive."
i do, i thought, i do.
you didn't like that i had to stop to ponder so much.  you didn't like that we could never finish an argument without me taking a pause.  you didn't like when i said today needs to be me alone.  you didn't like it.

you were okay when it was you, not choosing to be alone, but rather to be with someone else.  that was okay.  that made sense.  but my need to be alone, that always confused you.

in the end: i gave myself away.
i changed for you.  i thought i could become exactly what you wanted, exactly what you needed, but it wasn't enough.  it wasn't okay.  not for you and not for me.

did you change for me?  did i cause you to do the things you did, to make the choices you did, the ones that hurt me, the ones you knew would hurt me?  did you understand the power you held over me?

it doesn't matter now, but i wonder if you did.  often i wondered.  it plagued me like a recurring illness.

but eventually, time stepped in, enough of it, for the redundancy of a thought to finally dwindle to non-existent

i remember texting you when i was on a bus in queens.  it was the first time i felt together in awhile.
do you remember what i wrote?

of course not.  it's probably a long deleted, or old archived conversation, far too brief to hold any importance for you.

all you said was, thanks.

i remember.  as soon as i read it, i deleted it. it said enough to help me to finally let go.

i'm so happy for you. 

those were the words that should have come months before, but couldn't find their way to you, not authentically anyhow.

our story is long over, but its effects remain deep.  we've both moved on in different ways.  and it's good.  really good.  if i held the pen to the story i always think, haughtily so, that i could have done a better job.

but i am wrong.  i never could.

i long ago gave up the idea of holding the pen.

today i was reminded that the surrendering of control is a good thing.

i realized it when you said hello..
it was perfect.
i recognized it when you pressed into my life, when you showed you cared.
i'd never come up with those words.
i couldn't have written that any better.  really, i couldn't have.

it is, for whatever it is or may be, the beginning of everything.