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Can you really say you don’t want something when you’ve never had it?
I find myself grasping at the threads and shreds of what could be something between us, them wrapping me up and keeping me safe inside my own blissful ignorance, whisking me away to a land where you will be the happy ending to my fairytale
Can you really say you don’t want something when you could have it?
I choke down the flood of words, drowning the cry of my heart. Those russet eyes captivate and seem to see straight through all of my false pretenses, piercing my soul.
But you will never possess the key to my heart, even though I have begun to braid and twist its rope, tying it slowly around your eyes.
Unconsciously I have become a dream catcher, waiting to steal your deepest thoughts and yearnings and set them running across the pages of my own desires, seeing if the words in the chapters of our lives will somehow match, aligning the stars to you and me, us. But all I have found is that you are blinded by a mind not willing to let me in.
My key does have a spare in another place, tied around my mouth, for I will never be able to tell you that I’m stranded in a fog of words which conceals your true intentions.
It’s too late for honesty. I’m choking on the key and the fog is pulling me under faster and faster until it will finally break into a million pieces of star shine, washing your face.
But when it touches and illuminates the key that covers your eyes, the flood gates of truth will open and pour out the complicated mess of my love.
3…2…1… the rocket has flown, carrying my heart to the moon. The cat’s out of the bag and the elephant in the room has broken loose and is stomping all over the web of lies that I had convinced myself were true because of you and your endless child-like wonder with the ways of the world and how ice in a cup will always melt and leave some water left even after the rest is gone, a gift to the beholder that is so simple, so right.
Can you really say you don’t want something when it’s looking you in the face, filled with flaws and insecurities, never feeling something like this before, but willing to dive headfirst into the unpredictable sea of love and truth with only the hope of being able to keep a head above water. That’s all I need because even the best of swimmers, in time, find themselves being pulled under.
But before it’s too late, I just need to ask you a question. Why is it that even when your words seem to radiate warmth through every pore of my being, it never seems to reach this hole in my heart. Because I know the truth will ruin this dream that I have carefully wound by the silent utterance of those three words that, when spoken, will cloud those russet eyes and poison the waterfall of words between us.
But this can never happen, for I would rather let that key rust and fill with dust and never be given to another before I’m willing to let you slip through my fingers and be placed in a cardboard box, with everything else that is eventually lost in the attics of our memories.