movement toward forever
It strikes me as odd, this cycle of love and loss, pain and release. Every moment you cherish with someone is one that you can't get back. Whatever happened before, whatever happens after, you have that moment, that memory, that heartbeat together.
Then you tell yourself that it's forever, but you know it's not. Or before knowing, you find that bitter seed of doubt, of grief, of revenge, of envy that threatens to grow into something that should not be.
You love, but it's not enough.
It lasts, but not forever.
You move on for different reasons, because you have to, and later on down the line, if you're lucky, you'll be able to smile at one another if you pass by one another on the street. Perhaps you'll be able to joke and to lie and make believe that it really wasn't that good, it really wasn't that bad.
You can't put your finger on exactly what it was, after all.
And you ask yourself what you could have changed, if anything, and if it would have made a difference at all.
And if you're lucky--if you're among the luckiest, really--you'll be one of the few who can look in the bathroom mirror in the morning, really look at yourself in the eyes, all hazel-green or brown or everchanging peacock blue--and not hate yourself, and know that it's not all a lie, know that you're living your life the way you want, you're loving the best you can, you're doing the best for yourself and those around you, you can see the fractures of your past for what they are, fractures, and allow them to heal.
Heal they will.
Somewhere along the way, you will find your forever. And enough will be enough, and it will last and last, and when you move on, you'll be moving forward together, in the same direction, the same heartbeat.
And you'll be able to put your finger on it this time.
This is it, whether you thought you were ready for it or not. This is it. Forever.
I love you more than my words will ever, can ever say. Forgive their triteness; embrace their truth.
Then you tell yourself that it's forever, but you know it's not. Or before knowing, you find that bitter seed of doubt, of grief, of revenge, of envy that threatens to grow into something that should not be.
You love, but it's not enough.
It lasts, but not forever.
You move on for different reasons, because you have to, and later on down the line, if you're lucky, you'll be able to smile at one another if you pass by one another on the street. Perhaps you'll be able to joke and to lie and make believe that it really wasn't that good, it really wasn't that bad.
You can't put your finger on exactly what it was, after all.
And you ask yourself what you could have changed, if anything, and if it would have made a difference at all.
And if you're lucky--if you're among the luckiest, really--you'll be one of the few who can look in the bathroom mirror in the morning, really look at yourself in the eyes, all hazel-green or brown or everchanging peacock blue--and not hate yourself, and know that it's not all a lie, know that you're living your life the way you want, you're loving the best you can, you're doing the best for yourself and those around you, you can see the fractures of your past for what they are, fractures, and allow them to heal.
Heal they will.
Somewhere along the way, you will find your forever. And enough will be enough, and it will last and last, and when you move on, you'll be moving forward together, in the same direction, the same heartbeat.
And you'll be able to put your finger on it this time.
This is it, whether you thought you were ready for it or not. This is it. Forever.
I love you more than my words will ever, can ever say. Forgive their triteness; embrace their truth.