Everyone can’t always mean everything to me, be as much as I
want them to be at all moments. I value those who are close to me, who have
whittled a way into the centre of my life and heart. I’m in it with you when
you’ve made it that close to the bone, and I’ll stay there with you for a very
long time (even after the break up). But if you don’t want the time of day to
be filled with some of me, enough of me to validate the existence of an ongoing
friendship/connection, than I have to let you go. I have to move on, for my
heart will be saddened, saddened, not broken, when you move on from me to play
in the dailies of your life.
And what happens if you get in by fluke, unexpectedly; what
happens when you come in through the doors outside my vision? And then I
realize you, laying there in my center cave, nude and ripe to my touch?
I will fear you. I will not trust you quite as soon as your
entrance here, and I will protect you from me and me from you. Until one day the
welling is too full, too potent in the arrow head at my heart. And then I will
bust in quite an unordinary gushing of all the things I haven’t said over these
past days, these past years. I’ll tell you just how deep your vein has run;
I’ll tell you plainly of my love and truly not expect you to repay me in
return. I might want a particular imagined response, but I will not ask for it,
and I will not obligate either of us to such a harmonious outcome.
