A Life Half Lived
Sometimes I think I'm adrift in the world with no lifeboat, moving further and further from you, no way to return.
I look up and do not recognize the world I'm living in. How could it have been four months since we had a substantive discussion. You say that my moving away was a clear sign that I wanted nothing more to do with you, but can't you see that wasn't it at all?
Everything about that place was toxic to me, when I breathed in a gasp of air, it burnt my longs with acrid regret. I would hear phantom memories on every gust of wind. Seeing would'ves, could'ves, should'ves, more often than what was before me. Even the sand between my toes as I walked down the beach brought back days best forgotten.
I fled because I couldn't continue to face myself in the mirror when I was living there, because I knew what my future would hold as well as the sins of my past and there was no light for me.
If I had known that leaving would mean leaving you though, I might have tried harder to stay.
What is a life lived alone but a life half lived. When I experience joys, I want to share them with you, when I experience sadness I want to cry on your shoulder and have you distract me. When life replays scenarios I've lived through before, I want nothing more than to see your face and have a champion at my side.
I miss you. I miss you.
I am ashamed of the person I have become without you, and I don't know how to get back to that person or grow to a better person without you by my side.
I'm not sure that I want to without you here.
I can't go back though, not without you. I was only strong when you needed me to be. I was only fearless when you were afraid, I was only tall when you believed I could touch the sky.
I suppose the question is simple:
what do I fear more: a life half lived or my future in that place.
I look up and do not recognize the world I'm living in. How could it have been four months since we had a substantive discussion. You say that my moving away was a clear sign that I wanted nothing more to do with you, but can't you see that wasn't it at all?
Everything about that place was toxic to me, when I breathed in a gasp of air, it burnt my longs with acrid regret. I would hear phantom memories on every gust of wind. Seeing would'ves, could'ves, should'ves, more often than what was before me. Even the sand between my toes as I walked down the beach brought back days best forgotten.
I fled because I couldn't continue to face myself in the mirror when I was living there, because I knew what my future would hold as well as the sins of my past and there was no light for me.
If I had known that leaving would mean leaving you though, I might have tried harder to stay.
What is a life lived alone but a life half lived. When I experience joys, I want to share them with you, when I experience sadness I want to cry on your shoulder and have you distract me. When life replays scenarios I've lived through before, I want nothing more than to see your face and have a champion at my side.
I miss you. I miss you.
I am ashamed of the person I have become without you, and I don't know how to get back to that person or grow to a better person without you by my side.
I'm not sure that I want to without you here.
I can't go back though, not without you. I was only strong when you needed me to be. I was only fearless when you were afraid, I was only tall when you believed I could touch the sky.
I suppose the question is simple:
what do I fear more: a life half lived or my future in that place.