If there could be a way for us to be together without us hurting each other in fear of the intensity of our love...then I would be by your side instantly instead of giving up to hold on to whatever whole of me left uncut.
I've been skimming through quotations to use for a topic I have in mind to write about this evening when I stumbled across this particular piece of writing that led my heart and thoughts straight back to you...
He could talk about love. He could see love and feel love. But he couldn’t give love.
He could make love. But he couldn’t make promises.
She had desperately wanted his promises.
She wanted his heart, knew she couldn’t have it so she took what she could get.
Temporary bliss. Passionate highs and lows. Withdrawal and manipulation.
He only stayed long enough to take what he needed and keep moving.
If he stopped moving, he would self-destruct.
If he stopped wandering, he would have to face himself.
He chose to stay in the dark where he couldn’t see.
If he exposed himself and the sun came out, he’d see his shadow.
He was deathly afraid of his shadow.
She saw his shadow, loved it, understood it. Saw potential in it.
She thought her love would change him.
He pushed and he pulled, tested boundaries, thinking she would never leave.
He knew he was hurting her, but didn’t know how to share anything but pain.
He was only comfortable in chaos. Claiming souls before they could claim him.
Her love, her body, she had given to him and he’d taken with such feigned sincerity, absorbing every drop of her.
His dark heart concealed.
She’d let him enter her spirit and stroke her soul where everything is love and sensation and surrender.
Wide open, exposed to deception.
It had never occurred to her that this desire was not love.
It was blinding the way she wanted him.
She couldn’t see what was really happening, only what she wanted to happen.
She suspected that he would always seek to minimize the risk of being split open, his secrets revealed.
He valued his soul’s privacy far more than he valued the intimacy of sincere connection so he kept his distance at any and all costs.
Intimacy would lead to his undoing—in his mind, an irrational and indulgent mistake.
When she discovered his indiscretions, she threw love in his face and beat him with it.
Somewhere deep down, in her labyrinth, her intricacy, the darkest part of her soul, she relished the mayhem.
She felt a sense of privilege for having such passion in her life.
He stirred her core.
The place she dared not enter.
The place she could not stir for herself.
But something wasn’t right.
His eyes were cold and dark.
His energy, unaffected.
He laughed at her and her antics, told her she was a mess.
Frantic, she looked for love hiding in his eyes, in his face, in his stance, and she found nothing but disdain.
And her heart stopped.”
I'd like to believe that the words in what were written is not true in it's entirety. That the feelings that I have for you is not just on my part, but on yours as well. If what I wish to believe is entirely not so, the thought of the truthfulness of what was described in this particular novel when based on the reality of what happened between us may very well be my undoing....
The almost complete shattering of what I felt in my heart as the perfect alignment of events that led to the finality of having to search for who could finally complete what each other was missing almost brought me to disappear.
If you only knew the torture that i had to endure as I struggled to deny the truth of what I knew was needed to be done, you'd have lost all color in the world during those moments like what happened to me...
But I knew I had to...For us to have a chance to survive each day...
I had to let go of this incredible love and the dream of being by your side from then on for the sake of our sanity. Other than the personal reasons that I have had to convince myself repeatedly as things that couldn't be set aside for my heart's sake, this will always be settling for something lesser than I now know what loving a person can be.
For all that I have written on this piece, the single thing I wish and wish and pray everyday could be dishonesty, is the feeling I have that I won't find someone who I could love and be loved in that same degree..
MOOD: Missing love..
MUSIC: the highway's traffic outside
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