One. Two. Me.

1.

That day when you came to stop me from saying “Goodbye, I love you.”

That night when you picked me up from the airport, when – again – I wanted it to be over.

Those lingering embraces.  Those passionate kisses.  Those heart-felt words – from both of us.

That could have been forever.

Don’t tell me I made things up, that I exaggerated emotion, that I took things beyond their meaning. Don’t try to convince me that I took things out of context when the only thing I took out of context was myself from the context of your vicinity.

Don’t tell me I’m immature in love when I have the capacity to love beyond the space of a few miles, beyond the finite moment of right-now.

We could have been infinite, beyond all time-and-space.  We could have been epic, magical.  We could have been of the things true love and gods are made.

2.

Those nights-after-nights and days-after-days when you “didn’t expect to fall in love,” “to feel so much,” for me to stay.

Those months-long epic conversations when I explained my inner workings, my likes and dislikes, when I wrote books to you in long, verbose dialogues that you repeatedly did not hear, listen to or understand.

The fading patience; the increasing bitterness; the overbearing misery amidst your blissful ignorance.

Did you really not see, understand anything of me?  No; nothing.  You took only what you wanted, needed, and disregarded the rest, left it for posterity, thinking – having had my love and devotion for years upon years – it would last indefinitely.

When I told you I wanted nothing more to do with men, was that not explanation enough?

It’s not that we had nothing.  It’s that it was repeatedly disregarded, discarded in lieu of your past, in lieu of so many things you chose poorly that sapped your soul until I came along and filled you up again.

It’s not that we couldn’t have come back together.  It’s that you somehow ceased caring about what brought us together in the first place; and somehow, you expected me to care about how I brought you back to who you are now… when I have always told you I preferred the man you made of yourself before we first met.

Me)

Go into the desert.

Sing.

Dance.

Walk.

Capture beautiful moments and share them with the world, with friends, with the wind, with no one at all.

Be.

Write everything, and love every stinging thing like so many spines upon so many cacti, guarding what precious flesh lies beneath with so much fought-for life-giving waters.

Forgive even those who bit you, stung you, hurt you, maimed you; for you are forever-forgiving, forever-giving.

Love.  Again.

Let this time be a lesson; and, this time, find that wolf, that coyote, that mountain lion, that bobcat, that bear, that eagle that will forever-love you, whom you can forever-love-give-love-receive-love-amen.

It’s time:

Kiss the sands and the dry earth.

Swim and sail and surf in those big, beautiful, blue waves.

Go.  Wherever.  Life takes you.

Be your heart.

Bring the rains to barren lands; and dance, laugh, kiss; let the waters wash every pain clean.

Be forever-good-and-loving.

Indulge your every desire, dream and wish.

Find your fantasies in life and love, and live them fully, for so few will leave their pains and morbidity to bring childish dreams to reality.

Do.

And dare, as you always dare.

This is your life, your posterity.

Bring about me.

Photo ©2015 MLM