I still think of him. So many years of my life spent wondering what could have been. Endless nights dreaming of his touch on mine. So much of my wasted time.
Was he my first love? Married to what I call my soul mate. But could we have more than one…
I can’t help all these years later to wander to our times together. No closure. No answers. You never knew how I truly felt. But would you have cared. I have become a master at lying to myself. I have said it so often I almost forget any other way to be. Almost…
Than the memories trickle in. Times to be forgotten. Times with you I pushed away to never let myself feel again. Illicit experiences. Not even I can tell myself why I let you inside that part of me. Not even I know why I could never believe them when they said you were no good for me.
Abuse torture manipulation. You tied me so permanently to that string my puppet master. All those years I danced for you. Now ruined and unable to dance for any other man. Every time I tried to run with the knife, and I looked up only to find I had tied the knot tighter. A part of that string that can never be undone. Poison leading right to my soul.
I remember so many things about you. I can’t help but ask myself if any of it was real. Or was it just a beautiful ballad I had written for myself. Although I am terrified to answer myself the whisper surrounds me. Like a cold wet winters night that no fire will ever melt.
You remain my muse. My one and only inspiration. And while no one has ever ripped me to shreds quite like you, no one will ever sew me together as only your needle can.
I still remember your phone number. Made to delete it. Smiled and said I was willing. Promises I made that I must keep. A play so well written that to be believed as my life depends on it. Secretly the numbers permanently etched in stone so that neither time nor my lies could scratch them away.
Our memories are now like security blankets children are traumatically attached to. I am so terrified to lose you. These last remaining pieces I must treasure and hide deep in my soul. No one can ever know I kept you. As if my house had burned down and you were the only thing I needed to save.
Now left with only words on a screen. not only never being able to speak to you, but not to be able to speak of you either. Yet you remain forever and always my muse. First love?
I will wander the desert of time seeking you in the next life if only to whisper these words to you. Perhaps they are the knotted string. Maybe that’s why I could never see the truth of you and how you debilitated my soul. I would rather walk the oceans and deserts of time seeking knowing I will never find you. Secretly finding solace in my knots.
Its almost as if my mortality depends on each intricately placed knot. I used to think you tied each and every one. I look back and see now that you only handed me the string. And to know now that I know the steps to unravel them yet choose to continue strengthening the rope. What does that say about me?
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