Blue light

Every time I work on my home computer I get depressed. I see you everywhere in here. I pull up my music to get away and you’re there to haunt me. Remember this song? We danced to this song out in the parking lot under those enormous lights that made the rain look like confetti falling on us. I know this song too, it’s the first time we kissed and I blushed because I saw the way you looked at me like a woman instead of a little girl.

I came across your poetry tonight. From the beginning to the end, it’s all documented and neatly organized in your chronological way. You were the neat one. The organized one. I was the one with chaos whipping my hair up into my face.

I read your words tonight and I must admit it’s been along time. I had to stop a couple of months back from reading one of your poems over and over again because my heart couldn’t take it any longer. I picked up the opus you wrote me the other day and your words spilled like liquid to the floor, flooding me with those memories of what could be. What wasn’t for us.

You’re still the most talented man I know. It’s in your writing that you hide like a secret. I remember the first time we moved and we had to move our bed. I never realized how much you wrote until that moment we pulled the mattress off and stood shocked in your sea of words. You were naked. I loved you. Just as you were that moment.

It was at that moment that you weren’t dying. You weren’t a CEO or COO of a company. You didn’t make a dime. You weren’t a frat guy and I wasn’t a lost girl. You were honest. You were you, not the model person you thought you had to be. You stopped being an athlete for a split second, and became my poet. My inspiration.

As I read your words tonight, I can’t help but think of your new love. Will she move you enough to write with everything in your being? Will she push you to be honest in your writing? Will she love you enough? I want her to love you enough. I want her to see all those splinters that make up you.

I worry about you even though I know I have to let go. I can’t right now. I still cling to you at the oddest moments. I worry about you when it’s hot outside and know you’re going to go running anyway. I still laugh when I can’t find a CD and I can hear you telling me to put things up in the right place and I wouldn’t have these problems.

I miss you. I’m sorry for what I did and for who I couldn’t be.