my life used to make a certain kind of faithful sense because you were the most (perhaps the only) consistent point of reference in it since i was sixteen years old. our love was the epicenter of a world that i could understand. the capacity for tenderness in my heart was inspired by your eyes. you made the way soft for me. you understood my idiosyncracies and you were patient with my neverending illogical obsessions. you smiled at me across the table of my insecurities, knowing that my strength was even clearer there, though obscured, below a few various layers of mock carefree bravado. we took care of one another's hearts.
so now in some regard, my life has lost its moorings, and my being is adrift. most of my days are spent wandering happily oblivious to this fact, and then suddenly sometimes it hits me hard ... driving home from work at dusk, seeing shadows fall, knowing that you're sitting somewhere living the same sort of new emptiness.
m
so now in some regard, my life has lost its moorings, and my being is adrift. most of my days are spent wandering happily oblivious to this fact, and then suddenly sometimes it hits me hard ... driving home from work at dusk, seeing shadows fall, knowing that you're sitting somewhere living the same sort of new emptiness.
m
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