The Band.

Thinking of nothing at all is impossible. So instead I choose to speak my mind for anyone who cares to listen. I want to cover it up and pretend. But the truth is written on my face. Everyone can tell. Everyone knows. And everyone asks. Except the person I really wanted to.

I feel like a dying man on life support. Unwilling to let go but ultra aware the plug can be pulled any time. As crazy as it sounds I also feel like a doctor trying to revive the heart of a women let down. Breath. Damn it, breath.

I curse the past because it can’t be changed. I curse the present because I’m reminded of the past. I curse the future because it isn’t coming soon enough. We are not the people we were yesterday. As I’m writing this I know that it will be my last act. Some one new will own this body tomorrow. My only purpose is to be remembered. Try not to forget that.

I appreciate the sympathy and good wishes from the few I know are true friends but it hurts hearing things such as ‘no matter what happens’ when only one outcome will do. I had everything I care about right in front of me. When i lost it is when I saw how much I took for granted. I hate myself for that more than anyone else ever will.

Asking for forgiveness and not being forgiven or offering love and being told it isn’t enough. I don’t know which is worse. I’m told that I should let it be and maybe it will come back. But that just sounds like a gauge to see when I’m willing to give up.

I live not knowing how to make this right. I deserve it all. Every bit of it. But no matter how alone I am, I refuse to believe this is a lost cause. I know it will be over when, and only when, the last remaining ember of love that is inside you, burns out. If that ever happens I quietly walk away.

Have I said too much?

I’m sitting here still trying not to think.
Sub-consciously I’ve been spinning a ring around my finger.
White gold band with an inscription inside. Three words and a date.
I love you 3-14-02


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