I remember being prompted to write to you.
To unleash all of my thoughts and to direct them solely to you.
But fear came in, and I determined
that I could not bear such a weight of honesty.
I did not want to face this insecurity,
so I remained silent.
Yet, I could not continue to hide that…
my mind remembers you.
My mind is also convinced that 1+1=2…
that one day there will be
the two of us, freely
engaged in a relationship with one another
and not just simply together.
My mind and not just my heart is shipping us on the daily.
To tell the truth, you’re to blame
because since our first meeting I haven’t been the same
and that’s when fear and doubt came…
and I silently watched you forfeit the love game.
Hmmm… isn’t it crazy that after all the time that’s gone by,
after sleeping under different parts of the skies,
after absent vacations, birthdays and graduations,
after new jobs and new life situations,
after twists, turns, life unexpected promises,
after suicidal attempts and divine God-visits,
after years of addictions and brand new shoes,
after realizing that life was more than being cool..
I still cannot forget about you.
Trust me, I tried.
I stood in the mirror and lied,
said that I didn’t love you anymore.
I went too far in my confession, I even swore-
to those that loved me dearly and to those who witnessed my pain.
I promised I wouldn’t choose you, because I didn’t want you to break me again.
But my mind doesn’t care because I remember:
Indian and Thai food, Lakers, “Lebron, the princess!”, Christmas 2012, Phoenix (Parisian boys), “I’m destiny, you’re looking at it”, bagging contest, CNC galore, food science degrees, brewery dreams, “Sept. 15, Don’t forget!”, fields and fields of broken dreams. July 10, 2011,> hands clasped at the altar.
I remember and I tried desperately to forget.
For 5+ years, every moment I’ve had in life has found a way to connect to you.
So… I know I’m intelligent, but maybe I’m a fool.
Because even on your worst days- I still want to be with you!
Maybe this is grace personified in me,
maybe this is love, maybe this is being free.
Maybe this is compassion bestowed liberally…
all in all, still remains the question of what to do.
Yes, I’ll admit it. I never stopped loving you.
©Simone Holloway, 2018