Once Upon A Time

Once upon a time. That says it all, doesn't it?

Well Wishes

I wish you to be happy. I want that most of all. I want to know that it was not all a mistake, and that life dealt each of us a destined hand. I want you to know you are remembered. And what once was will always be. But that things in the past are merely memories now, albeit powerful ones. And that no matter how many wishes are raised up in the still orange sky, there is no turning back. You and I are never to be in the same place again. Never to hold, never to touch. Never to do more than remember what once was. I am happy now. Greatly and painfully happy. And I wish the same for you. That you find more than you hope for, that you even try. That you do more than remember the past, but that you take a step to finding it again.

Stolen Shots

You see a glimpse of a life, and you realize that you were once a part of it. You were there, with those people, smiling, laughing, feeling totally out of place, and yet now that you look back, you realize, you were the only one who thought you didn't belong. You see those people, and you look at how their faces and bodies have changed, how time has either been kind or unkind, and yet somehow, you can't help feeling the past that you were once a part of. You are no longer a part of their world. They have gone on and moved on and left memories of you so far behind that it may be a wonder if they still remember you. The kids have grown up and you hardly recognize them anymore. They used to like you, maybe even love you at a time. Now, they don't know you as well. But then again, you wonder, what if..what if you had never left, would you be a part of them now?

Girl From Ipanema

Listening. Getz and Gilberto playing in the background. Brings me soft memories of you. How wonderful it is to revisit old times. Minus the heartaches, absent of the heartbreak. Falling in love wasn't so difficult then. We sat on your back porch swing, and you laid your head on my lap. Getz and Gilberto playing in the background. Made solid memories of you. I remember sitting there and not really knowing what was to come. Just thinking that at that moment, I was there. So were you. Somehow that was all it took, for a single memory to forever hold so much meaning. Then your dad looked in through the curtain of the glass door. And it was time to head back inside.

Coffee and Daydreams

Oh, I get poked too. From time to time. Here and there. Little things that are so subtle sometimes that it passes me by until a moment seizes me and freezes time. Then, I am transported back to you. I remember glimpses, flashes, and feelings mostly. I remember the thoughts and the unquestioned possibilities from a different time. But I am in a forgiving state now. Forgiving to myself, to you. To all the little failures between us. To all the wishes that never had a chance to lift off. To the love that didn't stand a chance. It was real, wasn't it? I've learned to detach myself so well that I often wonder if I didn't imagine half of it all. But you're there--poking me. Telling me things that are not hardly ever possible now. But it's worth a smile to read. And to understand where it's all coming from.

Peek-a-boo

This is like therapy. Funny how someone so distant can suddenly seem so near and yet a thousand milestones could never measure the space between us. But I see you. I hear you. And your words light a fire on memories long chained and sunk under deep waters. I cannot feel you anymore. But I can feel me. I can close my eyes and understand what you're saying. And sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can remember. Funny how after all this time, remembering can make everything so real again. The only time machine a person ever needs is the mind. And yet the mind is also so painfully deceptive that you cannot trust what it brings back to you. But I see you. And I hear you. And I hope listening to you puts back together what was once broken. Even in just a little way.

Window Still

I see you and your snapshots. I see your life and mine. Two sides of a coin really. Connected but forever having different points of view. We may go the same direction, meet and greet at one point, but I see you. And I see what you have. It is not all bitterness inside me, so don't get me wrong. I don't want to be you. But I envy you some. Envy you the things I know I can never have. It's not a question of getting really. Life after all does not deal fair hands. It's the twist of fate and the constant sun that it shines on you that I envy. The easiness of it all. I wonder what you must think when you wake up in the morning and everything is there--without trying, without effort. That is what I envy. That and nothing more.