What If…?




What If I said I needed these words?  That I needed these letters from the alphabet to string themselves to each other… binding themselves; one to the other… seamlessly… effortlessly… as if to tell you and me how easy it all is. Oh how they hold on to each other! Resiliently; delicately; as if to say the slightest whisper, or the wind, could so easily dismember… and then they’d no longer be entwined, as I am to you. Still. Now. Forever.  Would you stop to listen? If I told you these fragile, re-arranged letters – all twenty six of them, were the only ones for company… for memories…  and for the mask of sanity  you know I’m accustomed to wear… What if I said these words dance for me? Like something primal, guttural, and wild… that they intoxicate me… like you did once. That they hold on to my idea of them, as much as I lay a few silent claims upon them as well… They’re frail you see… they know… and I know all too well. What if I said these words were all that is now left of what was once you and me? Of “us”? That I needed them… to serve as reminders that I had once found a thing of great beauty… that as with all things so achingly beautiful, this too couldn’t stay… What if I said, they brought order and chaos all at once… just like you have. Once. Twice. a million times over. And that when eons pass, when many suns and clouds have done what they do everyday, when all the shootin’ stars have fallen through, sparkling; fading; failing; knowing they’d never be able to accomplish even a fraction of what your eyes could so easily do… when the world  has aged… when my heart stops seeking the rhythm you and me were once accustomed to…when, like clock-work, I stop finding comfort in the familiarity of all this pain… when the canvas on my minds’ eye tires from painting every possible picture of that alternate lane… when all the ink from the blues, and purples and pinks have faded-away…. Then my love. Then. Then is when I’ll need my twenty-six letters. Organized. Disorganized. But ALL MINE just the same…


2 thoughts on “What If…?

  1. Like the line “when the canvas on my minds’ eye tires from painting every possible picture of that alternate lane” 🙂 Conveys loss beautifully.

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