A work in progress.
Ink on the page.
There is so much to say.. yet nothing to say at all. I have to start somewhere.. there are so many stories to tell in such a small space. One at a time.. one step at a time. One broken heart at a time.
Once I loved openly. Carefree.. come what may. I gave everything. It was everything. Until it was nothing. We ran before we walked. We became carnage. And all that came after was collateral damage. Bruised inside and out.. new scars on old. I was nothing but ash. Burned to the ground and blown across the bleak skyline. Bits of us. All of me.
And out of the dust came you. I held you at arms length. In awe. I had the best first date in my entire life. I fell in love with you just then.. somewhere between Billy Joel and Phil Collins... and just after I stood on that curb and wished you would kiss me. Hours into the night we lay.. curled together on the couch rushing to share all that we were before that moment. Comparing.. learning. Achingly close. It inflamed old wounds and made me run... driving you home and buying myself hours to think about what my heart wanted.
But before long my phone was buzzing...
You wanted to make me dinner. I was scared. Scared of how you made me feel. Too safe. Too comfortable. We ate.. we curled up in front of a movie and I fell asleep with my head on your chest. You asked me to stay.. and I ran. I gave everything once and lost myself. I went home... to breathe.
And before long my phone was buzzing...
You wanted a label. You wanted to claim me. You wanted to be mine. More than anything, I wanted to be yours. Together, we decided. Together. Come what may. A promise I made with all I had left in the late afternoon Sunday sun. You're driving this train.
Fourty-five days later you made a promise to me. Quietly we sat together in the front seat of your truck, at the very place we met. You laid a wrapped package in my lap. It was almost Christmas. Layer after layer of paper.. boxes inside of boxes. Until there was only one the size of my palm left. The clock rushed into midnight when you spoke the words engraved on my heart. Still, today. Scorched into the fibres of me. 45 days.
You chose me. You wanted me. Always. If only you had known how very damaged I was. If only I had known how impossible it would be for me to give what I wanted. What you deserved. We made a life together.. and then we created life together. And then we fell apart.
And here we lie. In pieces...two people, one space. One tie between us. How to fix things? Where to begin? Is there a start or are we too far past the finish line?
All we share now is distant memories... and this:
She owns me.
