supposed closure

I want, more than anything, to be caught in that moment when I told you how I felt, and you had not yet answered. I want, more than anything, to hold on to uncertainty, to this vague hope that maybe, just maybe, there is something greater than this pedestrian story.


The cars were zooming past. I did not know where I was, when I would get to where I was going, what you must've been doing. I only knew for certain what I'd known for more than 2 years now. That, and that I was awash with a drunkenness borne not of alcohol, but of an idealistic sweep that made me hope irreverently for the impossible to happen.

I still do not know why I always speak in half-assed poetry. I was going to say it right, this time. Say it straight, say it directly. The cards would be on the table, the ball in your court.

I've loved you. And I still love you.

I knew it since way back then. I also felt what your answer would most likely be. But some deep impetus within myself felt the need, today, to tell you definitively how the world before and behind us lay. I did not want to be fair.


Immediately, from the freeway with zooming cars full of people going where they needed to go, I was transported back to that afternoon on the 23rd of June. I came there to tell you that I was leaving. I had a vague idea where I was going, but I did not know where I was going in my heart. Suddenly, I was back to two years ago, in the driveway of a house with a heat I hadn't experienced since then beating down on my nape, and a dog barking at me to get the hell out. I was standing, not sitting, my left foot methodically going in front of my right, my right in front of my left.

I wish I chose to look back.

I was free, then. The sun was shining, the world lay ahead, I was about to embark on this great journey. So what if I had only accomplished half of what I wanted to tell you? That veiled truth, understood by the both of us, but by no means admitted, gave me permission to act toward you the way I did. You understood what I meant. You did not need anything else. I know that now.

Today, I was stuck in a car, in a gloomy Thursday's atmosphere, telling you all sorts of words and feelings. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to get out, run into the middle of the road, and heave and breathe and hyperventilate. The world no longer lay in front of me. A wall had been placed that I could never pass. I felt smaller, and humbled.


Even the words of my narrative fail me. Nothing was certain in my mind excepting the fact that I loved you. That I've loved you. That I will love you, no matter what.

That damned word, love.

I said it before, that there are times when you know you love when you don't even want to use the word "love" because it cannot nearly mean everything you want it to. I should've listened to my advice.

I love you, I love you, I love you ad infinitum; but I do not merely "love" you.

I am devoted to you. I am filled with pride for you. I am completely in awe of you. I am committed to you. I am a million other things there are no words for for you. I love you, with the urgency of a sunset: that quiet, steady, but inevitable explosion of sentimentality and poetry and pinks and purples and oranges. I love you, with the intensity of the night wind that brushes and caresses, but chills to the bones. I love you enough to imagine a happy ending, but also enough to wish you a happy ending with anyone... even though I'd really like for it to be with me.


My words may have driven you away. Perhaps the selfishness of my needing closure divided us. Perhaps my cowardice and impatience, which drove me to tell you of my heart and soul in the limited and ambiguous medium of words ruined it all. Maybe I scared you with a word that I didn't even want to use, but had complete honesty and meaning in usage.

I love you, damn it. In that crazy rhetoric of laughter and loss of sanity, and unreasonable dedication. In the angry passion of teenage nothingness, and the unwavering sincerity of later love.

I don't need romance. I don't need sex. I don't need titles. I don't need family Christmas cards, nor flowers on valentine's day, nor sweet dinners for two. I just need the silence. The comfortable and meaningful silence of sitting next to each other and watching the world fall down around us and not caring. I need the silence we had. I need the silence that I think I've chased away because of my impulsive need to use words, and titles.

I was stupid ad infinitum. And I realize now that I might've killed something so completely beautiful.


In my heart, it's November, or January, or maybe even August. It will always be one of those quiet, uneventful nights. One of those nights when I sat beside you, and knew that I loved you, and that was good enough for me. My soul will always implode in search of this invisible night, forgotten in the tides of my memory. And I would be your friend. A very dear friend.


It is June 3, the sky is gloomy, and the words of doves and flames cannot resurrect the glorious sunshine of days past. It is cold. My feet are firmly planted on the floor. My eyes are focused and dry. My hands are folded, and painfully empty. There is no last hug. There are no tears.



but still, despite all this, there will be no goodbye's until goodbye.



When the world is mean, and the winds are cold, and there is nobody there. Maybe then I can have a chance.