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Posts Tagged ‘romance’

As you know i couldn’t talk to you on Tuesday afternoon. It was not possible to reach you at home, one of your daughters answered the phone saying she went to the hot tub. And later she said, my mom is not longer living here. She lives at her husbands house.

I felt myself extremely sad, I cried, it made me feel miserable it was all i could do to keep myself under control. If I were to let myself go, i would have cried more than you did in the office Mamita… I’m waiting for the day when i can touch your soft hands, your forehead, take my hands and hold me against you very quietly to say you are the lady of my dreams. My dreams are always a way for me to enjoy you. That’s when I believe you exist for me. I hope i can bring you the kind of joy you give me in every dream.

Mamita your beauty and the truth of my feelings for you are enough to sustain me for a lifetime, Mamita your smile, like sunshine in a darkened room. I was thinking about you all day at work yesterday, i missed you a lot. I can see your sweet beautiful face in a dim light. There is soft music in the dining room, and the aroma of the unique flower in my life named Mamita. There is only one in this world who could ever mean as much to me as you do. I always remember every single tear I shed for you. Each one is a drop of blood from my heart.

Mamita i want you to be feel happy to know that there is someone who has deep feelings about you. I’m not the one who is writing this letter for you, if you want to know – It’s my heart. broken in pieces suffering doctors can not do anything to heal me. There is one who can put back every single piece in place.

you live in my heart

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The day dragged on the same as every other day prior with your face imbued in my mind like a mascot of defeat and despair, the image of what I once believed would bring eternal happiness now stuck hanging in the halls of my memory collecting dust where it once hung a banner of inspiration and joy, a trophy to all men. When the sun ceases to shine, when the moon fails to glimmer, when life takes on a perpetual sheen of gray the only pass time becomes an introverted assessment of our memories, the constant unanswerable question of where did it all go wrong? When did forever get so short? At what point did love become not enough?

But being brought up with the concept that love will always reign supreme given time you learn to push these incessant thoughts to the back of your mind to lay in wait till the time of your next inevitable breakdown. So I sat and desperately clung to all the passionate kisses, the romantic love letters, the daring adventures, the love making, the future plans, as if they were life itself. Just when misery became the closest thing to happiness that I could hope to achieve I received a text from the only person capable of curing my plight it should have revived me and brought me back to the living but instead it pushed me below rock bottom, the text informed me of a change in the dynamics of the situation, she was happily in a relationship with some guy. A million images raced through my mind, her holding his hand the way she held mine, her kissing his cheek the way she kissed mine, her loving him the way she loved me. The world had stopped spinning I was stuck in purgatory my chest got tight, my hands started shaking, my vision went blurry, I was swamped with an overwhelming sense of nausea I reached for the only thing that had sustained me this far, to my horror the bottle was empty chucking the bottle at the wall I scrambled for the carton of cigarettes, empty. I’m not sure how I made it through that night if truth be told I don’t remember anything after that point just the comforting warmth of nothing.

The next two months I wasn’t alive I was in some form of a coma, yes I was there I would hear you and I would answer, but I wasn’t there not a hint of emotion, not sadness, not happiness, just nothing. Word reached me that she had broken up with her now former flame, the relief was instant. It was as if someone had stabbed me in the chest with an adrenaline needle, I allowed myself the privilege of hope. We began to talk again, at first I was reserved till I came to the conclusion that I had to be the old me, the one she had fallen in love, with not the deteriorating carcass of that man. Like all great actors I had to convince myself of the part I had to be the part so I resumed my social life I think I even found myself again at least for a time. We talked about the old times and how we still loved each other and how we were meant to be. From there it evolved into me bringing her flowers sleep overs the stupid laughs the endless kisses, til the next devastating blow to my heart was dealt, she had a new boyfriend. My shock was palpable to all around my mutilated heart visible to all to see. Still I was ensured that we would eventually be together, then it dawned on me we were over our era had ended the fairy tale had come to a tragic closing it was never again going to happen, I was merely the half time show, the fluffer in between scenes, and thats when I decided once was enough for one lifetime.

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Dear J.

We met when I was in the seventh grade, and you were an eighth-grader. That was twenty years ago. There was always something between us; we were intense, you a Pisces, me a Scorpio. Ain’t it the truth. We talked, we laughed, we flirted, and I was scared. I didn’t know what to do with my body there in its wheelchair, didn’t know how to feel or be pretty in your eyes. But you were a kind high school boy, and said truly meaningful things like, “I really like when you wear that sweater, it makes your boobs look really good.” I am pretty sure we loved each other, in the sweetest, most longing kind of way. Time went by; we went on one date, to the movies to see Claire and Leo kill themselves for love, and you held my hand for the first time on the way home. It took another whole year for our first kiss, even after everything. I have never felt more special.

More time went by, we decided we were not for each other, met, dated, and screwed other people. But it was always there, that chance we had never taken, the secret refuge and promise of nostalgia. You always said you wanted to be married and a dad by the time you were 26, and you were. You are a great dad, even though you and his mom got divorced. Through it all we would touch base sometimes. We always knew the other one was out there, something good, something sweet, somehow ours. You used to call me long distance from overseas when you were in the service and you hated it.

More years went by, and I would hear about you, or see you on Facebook, and there was still that old pull. I asked you, out of the blue, to go out of town with me, and you wanted to, but had just started a new job, and couldn’t get away. But you wanted to, you said so, and I believed you.

You got a new phone this summer and texted me from your new number. We had maybe not really talked in ten years or so. You finally admitted that you had unresolved feelings for me, how much you wished we had taken bigger steps in our relationship, and how you thought of me so much. You said if we had gone out of town you would have taken your chance to make love,with me, and love and love and love with me. I asked you if you realized you are the person that other than my family has been in my personal interior life the longest, and wasn’t it great to know we still had each other in some way? You said you did, and yes, it was, and like me, you were glad and thankful.

We made plans to see each other shortly after that, when you were going to be in ____, an hour away, for a week-long work conference. We were going to meet here, at my house, alone and finally adults, on a Friday night. I cleaned the house from top to bottom and put on makeup. And all that day, you did not answer my calls or my texts. You did not come. You did not call or text, or make any contact with me. No excuses, no stories, nothing. I was sure it was because something happened with your son, or to you. You would never do that to me. Not the boy I knew, with those beautiful deep brown eyes. The one I had known for so long, and who maybe loved previous teenage me. I preferred to imagine you in some emergency, and was prepared to give you enough time to get in touch.

Weeks went by. No word. Casually, I saw a comment you posted on someone’s FB. With a sense of disbelief, I clicked on your name, because it meant that clearly you were right there where you had always been, and not forgivably run off the road, in a ditch and then in traction. And I saw your status, saying how happy and in love you were, and I saw your new girlfriend.

I just don’t understand. Did you decide it wasn’t worth it, that the chemistry was not enough, that out twenty-year history was not worth a returned phone call, or a straight answer? I will never know for sure, because I will never ask you, and because it doesn’t really matter. You aren’t who I thought you were. You are not the man you say you strive to be.

You wouldn’t believe it if I told you, but I’m not really angry anymore. I’m not hurt that you treated me the way you did this summer. I am very hurt, though (and you deserve to know and hear this) that you did not respect me or everything that had been between us. I am sad that I feel now that I never really knew you at all, and that when I look back on all those sweet, fond, innocent, exciting, charged, tender, funny, laughing, sexy, patient, stolen moments, they are tarnished now, and kind of empty. You have stolen away the brightness and warmth that you yourself gave me, and that I had made a part of myself for so long.

Goodbye. You made this choice. I don’t need to know why. But I hope you stay gone. I won’t try to find you.

A.

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Dear H,

You are my true north. My soul mate. I thought I could keep you happy forever well I hoped I could. You were the brightest light that ever shined in my direction.

The times we spent together I will treasure forever. Everyone thinks I’m crazy for going on and on about you, especially since I am 11 years your senior. Age never mattered. When my friends tells me you are only 21 and only after one thing, I never understood. If you were only after one thing I never would have known.

i love you because- you are smart, beautiful, caring, passionate, compassionate, and the most lovable caring person I have ever met in my life. my life without you is sad, and lonely and unfulfilled. You know I love my job, and all that goes along with it, then there are the happy times I wish I had someone to share with. Then there are the sad times I wish you could hug me and make everything better.

I don’t want to find someone like you or get over you, because you are him, the man I wish to be with forever and ever and ever. I may not get that chance, and I hope the woman who does appreciates you in the most raw form.

I will love you forever…
S….

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Dear D,
For years we were friends, your girlfriends did not like me and I felt the same about them. It was me you snuck over to talk to late at night,and all we ever did was talk- but I knew that even if you had been w/ one of them, it was me you chose to be with before you went home to sleep. then we had our chance together- but I had just been burned and I thought you were just having a summer fling. Although we had dates and time together that was comfortable and fun, our one night together (which is not something I do or did even in my youth) I did because for me it was true making love. I let myself go and chose to give you me, even if you did not feel the same depth of feelings that I did.

Then, just as I was packed and ready to head back to college, you stopped over with the most beautiful roses, and told me that you cared for me- more than a fling. I was shocked and scared- and I disappeared. Flash forward 25 years, and a simple, hey, do you remember me email thru classmates.com (which I only put my profile on looking for you), and here we are almost a year later. You are married, and as you told me in our first few exchanges, you think she is the one. At the time I read that, I was happy for you, after all we were friends just catching up and our friendship seemed so easly to fall back into.

Today where am I? I find that I can’t wait to see your emails in my inbox, we have shared that we both have alternated looking for each other for the past 15 years or more, and once you let me know you had feelings for me now, I am lost. As a friend, I should support your marriage and I should be happy for you. As someone who is struggling w/ her feelings toward you- I am finding it painful. I wish we could just see each other, spend a little time together, to see if what appears to be happening is real- or is it the safety of memories and distance that has moved our email communications in the direction they seem to be taking recently.

Maybe once you see me in person, not just picture, you will change your mind, and we can discuss this mess, laugh about it and move forward in our lives and continue the friendship w/o these complications. You say you have never even considered this before, and that is a part of the person that I am falling for- so why would I want to change that part of you? I should not want you to change that very important-and rare- part of who you are.

D, I am struggling with this falling sensation, I am feeling guilty to the innocent people who don’t know they are involved in this mess. I am sorry for sending that first email, the consequences of that decision have far exceeded anything I expected. What I’d give for some peace of mind now-

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You and me. We’re like a hot, bright firework.

It doesn’t matter that the hot part is over, and was over more than 10 years ago now. The hot part where we just shot into the sky and fucking exploded and fell in love way too quick and both got really scared about how intense it was. How we were saying it to each other wide-eyed and incredulous, writing it to each other on paper making it real. We would get in your bed and stay up literally all night making out. We couldn’t stop. We’d fall asleep for a couple hours with our faces pressed together and our hearts and eyelids fluttering and our tattoos smushing together into new designs and our breathing in rhythm all too-perfect-like. I’ve kissed a lot of boys and I still remember your kisses. If they hadn’t been so vivid and volcanic and all over me and impossible the next part might not have happened.

That’s the part where the firework is still happening but it’s losing its heat. It’s still sparkling and shimmering and still there…but the real explosion is over. All the little stars are moving away from each other but the idea of what was there still exists, filling out the shape. That’s the part that happened after you smashed my heart. You got more scared than me. You moved thousands of miles away. But then you came back. And you kept coming back into my life for years. We kept going through the motions as much as other relationships and life would allow. Sometimes we’d see each other every day. Our bands played shows together. For a while we were even neighbors. I never stopped wanting to kiss your face. Every single second we spent together getting coffee, watching movies, lounging around outside, talking about stupid shit like robots and our bands and our lives and relationships and how we wanted everything and nothing and were never satisfied…I could barely look at your neutron star eyes that I kept falling into for years. We both knew it and didn’t know it. You apologized for everything from forever ago. Said you were wrong, scared. Our hearts were both bloody on our sleeves but we didn’t want to ruin each other’s lives…though we came so close so many times…every time you threw pebbles at my window or put your head in my lap when we were sitting on a bench or showed up drenched in a rain storm at my door. Every time we hugged so tight and so long when we parted, your face buried in my long hair, your eyelashes flicking my cheek. I think you held me like that to keep our lips as far apart as they could reasonably be in an embrace. My heart would pound so hard I thought it might knock you over. We shimmered and sparkled around and outside ourselves.

I got married. And that’s the part where we turned to ash. You told me once you thought we’d have ended up together for good if I’d never met my husband and I still agree. We’re grown up now. The universe still keeps cleverly throwing our daily orbits together, over and over again. But it’s cool now. I run into you often. I don’t have a heart attack anymore. I’m just happy I still get to see your face while the ash whirls and falls around us and quietly settles on our cheeks and eyelashes, in our hair, on our hands, on the ground.

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I am an adult. The time when you are awkwardly squirming to see if you can get your knee to brush against someone has long passed. A good 15 years passed. That’s why it was so odd that I found someone recently trying to do that to me. And they were even older than I was – farther from their teenhood. Farther from years where it may have been an acceptable means of displaying sexual tension. At first I was kind of grossed out by this awkward display of teen-like affection.

But as I was walking home alone, I had to appreciate it for the memories it brought up. When you are a teenager, these moments are thrilling. Even if you aren’t into the person, there is a least a story to tell your friends. “omigod they were totally trying to touch me when they passed me in the bleachers!”

You were one of the best examples of this awkward inches-from-each-other-really-wanting-to-touch-each-other thing.

I have a heart around your picture in my 8th grade yearbook. You were the grade below me, but you probably stayed back, so I bet you were older. You were super skinny and really really tall. I was short so it probably was amplified by my shortness, but you seemed like a total beanpole. You would pass in the hallway and my friend and I would whisper to each other “so cute!”

You had a blonde bowl haircut. That described everyone in my town though, so it didn’t make you stand out. I just still picture you like that now. An adult with a 7th grader in the 90’s haircut.

Somehow I took you to my semi formal. I actually don’t know how I arranged that.

I was thrilled to be dancing with you. Holding you close. Hoping my hair was in place. Hoping my bobby pins weren’t poking your chest. Hoping I smelled good to you. Hoping my dress was short enough, but not too short.

After the dance we “watched a movie” at my best friend’s house. That basically means you put a movie on and spend the next hour and forty five minutes trying to discern what every millisecond of movement means. Trying to inch closer with an exhale? Trying to move away with a stretch?

I don’t think we took it anywhere from there but even that one evening of crazy tension and eventual hand-holding-under-the-blanket was exhilarating.

Even though you are kind of gross and old fashioned now, I’m glad that you were a young crush. Back when innocence made a simple brush of flesh more thrilling than anything you can imagine now. Back when it wasn’t some odd creepy thing an older man does when your skirt is too short for them to contain themselves.

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