Friday, October 4, 2013

To silhouettes...

"I love you stupid" was always the implication. I just assumed you omitted the comma for a reason.

I do not know why more addresses do not start with apologies. In moments of greatest strength, they have greatest force. In moments of most weakness, they are perhaps most needed; and in moments that define ordinary continuity, they speak of comprehension.
So yes, I apologize for those tears. All those times I could see them; and all those times when no one could.
I apologize for not listening to your eyes. The smiles began in your eyes. As did the questions. The mirth; and the despair.
And I apologize for those times when I asked you to understand without asking you if you really wanted to.

I do not know why more addresses do not middle with wishes. There is so much that is intended and can be led to fruition if it is just asked for. The problem is, it's never asked for.
So yes, I wish I had more time. It seems all of it was spent glorifying the past and evading the future.
I wish I had better words for worse times.
And I wish I'd heard more of your laughter, for there are times when I fear I will not be able to remember it.

I do not know why more addresses do not end with hope. For even after context is past and recollections are aether, hope persists. And thus, long after context is past and recollections are aether, they are no longer so.
So yes, I hope that you find answers before you find questions. And that you find questions before you find doubt.
I hope you will forget all that you can; and that you will remember all that you must.
And most of all, I hope you ask me again to tell you that story of the first time we met. You do so love it when I do that.

I have asked you to believe in a lot of things for my sake. I intend to ask for another. I want you to believe, more that anything, that you ought never doubt your capacity to affect change. I know that because you've changed me.
There's a kind of strength that comes with being able to let go completely; there's a kind of weakness that comes with holding on. I miss you the way I do, and I do not know why strength appeals to others.
But that matters little, since I know you must leave. But yes, perhaps one day, in the light of a flickering fireplace, you will find a way to come out of memories held in delicate suspension and make it so that the caress of your hands will not be as air on my being anymore.

Goodnight, sweet princess.
You take care of yourself.