Once upon a time, a long time ago, I fell in love. And there was laughing and funny breaths and happiness. There was much rejoicing. And then, SHUT! Over. Gone. Dead. Completely cut off. Disconnected. The taste still fresh in my mouth. The smell still on my skin. The feeling left in my fingertips. But I can't get that feeling back. I may spend my entire life trying to get back into that Polariod. Fighting all the way. The best thing I have ever known. Even now, years later, anytime I come close to it I want to dive in. Sink or swim. I don't care. I would give anything to be even in the room next to it. Across the street. A breath away. Remembering what I never let myself forget. Looking someone in the eye and knowing; another time, another place, it is right there. In front of me. Within reach. Just open my fingers and wrap them around it. Hold it tightly. And never let it go. Never. Never. I fought. I fought hard. But only with myself. Sometimes I wonder if I should have fought harder. With her. With it. Tried to work it out. It all made sense for about fifteen seconds. Just enough time to say, ?You're right.? What the hell was I thinking. Why didn't I say . . . . something. My line of thinking was ?if he doesn't want it, I don't want to push it.? Why try to keep him where he doesn't want to be? But he did want to be there. He had to. He was happy. There were nights I cried. When we were together and then I took him home and on the way home I cried. Not because I was sad, or even missed him already, but because I was happy. So happy I couldn't contain myself. I talked to God. Whether I believed in him or not. And I said thank you. Over and over. Again and again. I couldn't believe it was real. That I could actually touch him. Kiss him. Look into his perfect brown eyes and see myself. But I could. I had seen him before. IN the coffee shop. And I said to myself ?I would give up everything if he would even turn my way.? He was light years beyond me. Another plane. Another class. Confident, handsome, at peace. So sure. Not for me. I couldn't even dream it. No way could I ever make it real. Did he feel what I felt? I have to believe he did. If I didn't it would be so hard to breathe. So hard to get up in the morning. So hard to be. No one will be him. No one will have those brown eyes. No one will have that one lock of hair hiding all his secrets. And no one, ever again (shudder) will make me whole. Not like that. I'm scared. I'm so scared. What if it is real? What if never? What if I'm right? Do you ever wonder, do you ever ask yourself, ?can I live without love?? Can I open my eyes? I'm afraid to. There is a feeling. You know it. This trembling completeness. This warmth. That makes everything big. And you are ten feet tall all the time. Everyone is looking at you. You are the one. The one he chose. The one he calls when everything is wrong, and when everything is right! He is the one who reaches out for you. For me. She once said ? I need you.? I was done. That was what I was looking for all my life. Those words. For something so pure as this creature to need ME! Could not be real. Could not be my life. But it was. Of course, it WAS! It isn't anymore. It is gone. So far away. And it will never be there again. I see little pieces of it everywhere. A glance, a smile, a touch. I feel desperate. I feel alone. So much out there. But I only want to hear one thing. Not sure what. But I will know. If I ever get the chance. I will stretch out my fingers, grasp it tightly, and NEVER LET IT GO! But till then; I will be here. With my open hand. And my desperate heart. And my cold skin. Slowly, regrettably, forgetting just enough that I can survive from one day to the next. To remember is to suffer. To see what was and then look at what is. To hear a voice, feel my heart stop. Watch my breath studder in the cold. He. He can be almost anyone. He can read me like a book. I will open to any page for anyone. Cover to cover. Nothing to hide. Not the fear, the pain, or the hopelessness. It is all there. Large print ; easy to read. Secrets dissolve in tears. Dissipating into honesty, innocence, need. I was lost and now I'm found. I was blind but now I see. Maybe I don't want to. ..


'You'll get over it...' It's the clich?at cause the trouble. To lose someone you love is to alter your life for ever. The pain stops, there are new people, but the gap never closes. How could it? The particular ness of someone who mattered enough to grieve over is not made anodyne