Des Mots

Powerful as a winter wind gust, Pretty as a spring lily, Warm as summer sun, Fun as a fall leaf pile. All encompassed in one person. Flawed but beautiful. I watch with admiration at the Strong Independent Woman. And I wonder to myself, Whether I want to be her or be with her. I force that tightness in my chest down. Impossible. They say to be anything you want, But not this. They would never accept this. This would be inconceivable. So the thought of inner peace fills my heart, And I realize I am alone. Whether I want to be her or with her is irrelevant, Because neither will happen. I dream of a day when I am loved. When I live freely, in the open out of the cloud of despair. The comfort of the cloud keeps me trapped Once I leave, I cannot return, and I cannot stuff it back into a box. But living under the cloud my whole life Makes me cringe, cry, cower I think it easier to love no one than to ever fall in love with the wrong one. We are there walking on a beach, Together like my grandma and I used to walk all those days ago when I was a little child. As the sun hits her hair, I think how blessed I am to have found her. The warm salty breeze blows her hair across her face, and I see her smile. I feel the squeeze of her hand. She is next to me. Now and forever. My love. Fair, not at all. Slowly torturing yourself. Exactly Imagining futures that you have no business thinking about. Imagining being loved while being too cowardly to show the world what you really are. Putting yourself in the worst positions, for the sake of a stupid organ that has gotten you nowhere. That stupid heart that skips too many times and more often than not you wish would stop beating altogether. But when you’re alone and you look at her, you see something you shouldn’t, and you feel a connection that isn’t there. That can’t be there. She doesn’t care for you. No matter how much you want those looks and stray touches to mean. They don’t. Nothing more than two friends. Guest, not date. Alone, not together.