I read it.
I read it over and over and over as the credits rolled from you suggestion.
I was ready.
I was ready to tackle the meaning, or the inspiration, or that place.
And then you were gone.
You left so quickly I could only think of a couple reasons.
You are tired, you were tired.
you didn’t want to discuss it then, last night – or any night before.
It was yours.
After reading it over and over and over, I didn’t recognize it – its not famous, or infamous.
After reading it over and over and over, I had felt it
And even as i sit here contemplating other moments of my past creep in, its melodic, it is music, it reminds me of you. Seanah would sing it, then I would learn it and sing it for you. A part of me hated you for that, that you so easily could take something like a song and make it about you, you didn’t do that – I did and I blamed you for it. The song is sung by a girl named Amy and even now listening I weep for what is “then.”
I continue to read
It has to be yours.
It is not published anywhere but here, in this old, sacred place. This place you abandoned, this place I’ve returned to.
It has to be yours.
I cannot find it, or its origin, and maybe I’m not supposed. If it isn’t yours, it should be.
I don’t want to wait to dissect it. Even the subject that is was “something” that “came across your mind” it isn’t memorized, it is yours, and even so – it is mine. It was mine.
this was after I had moved back
after I left.
after you didn’t want me to have a title, and after you gave someone else a title but still wanted me because I was a challenge. your words.
More so now, then when I was close you want to know. . .
did i write about you or talk about you tonight, or even lately to anyone. my friends. my family. you’ve been a name – but only one has seen your face, besides me.
are you still a subject matter, if anyone looked then or now would they find your name, your alias accompanied by a short or long story that somehow ended with hope or sorrow or joy. you wonder these things. you wondered these things – then.
Don’t write me out yet
I left the area, that place, that line of connection or communication but you weren’t ready for it. Maybe you thought I would just come to you.
And I did.
And I hated it
And I loved it
Maybe you finally decided you didn’t want me to go, a decision that was too late. A decision that pulled me out of reality into a dream sequence with you, a heart to heart, and then I was thrust back into life. Forced to continue without ever knowing. Not for years would I know. Not for years would I believe.
We’ll speak of things like plants and trees.
It is you.
And for a while it was only you, and after that while I wanted it to be you, and after that it should’ve been you, and after that it wasn’t supposed to be. After he came along it was quiet. but i’ve always looked for you – here. i’ve always waited to hear from you, and even now that you’re voice echoes I turn to you for your thoughts, your words, your guidance.
I hate that
I love that
I am jealous
it will pass.
just as it always had
and this time you moving on, helps
and hurts at the same time
i don’t know.
Its a power that you attained, it should never have been yours, but it always will be. My confessions are yours, and they shouldn’t be but I dare not go against this.
Don’t use it against me, please
you did so many times before. did you know that you had that power? did you use it on purpose? please tell me, you would never hurt me intentionally
you could be talking of me
you could be talking of you
and only for a while – maybe it was me and you only wanted me to be gone for a while
maybe I am reaching
maybe you were hiding from me
from anyone, and only for a bit because you would always reach for your book and call someone who would come to you, it would not always be me, it should have been.
But only then.
it was me
sitting next to you
in the dream
and you could never say it
you would never say it
you would never admit it, or live it, or love it for exactly what it was, when it was.
you would let it go
you let it go
you let me go
and things have become what they are.
and he is there
and she is there
and there is joy – somewhere, because all of this – ALL of this, has nothing to do with now.
its something that i found
its something that i didn’t know
its something i don’t know if I ever should have known
what do you have to say about where the dream is?
something maybe then you didn’t want me to know
something you never finished/refined
but if you say its for me, i’ll take it
and i’ll keep it