Tiptoe across the silouhette of the moon

It is a star lit night as I look out of my window – watching the condensation….or is it rain, slowly work its way down the window pane.  Window pane…window pain…looking straight into my soul – through it – through me – into the void where my heart and head no longer talk to each other.  I knew it was wrong – I knew it and that is the thing that bothers me the most.   I knew it and still let myself talk myself around into believing the good.

I refuse to not see the good in people – I refuse to not let them show me that side.  It’s not my fault that so many people in this world aren’t good after all.  But I still refuse to believe it.  At least now I know that it is not my fault.  I am not the one that has gone around behaving, well, quite frankly, like a dick.  I am not deserving of such treatment and best to know now I suppose – best to know now that he doesn’t know how to treat a lady.

Still…knowing all this doesn’t really make it hurt any less.  Knowing all this doesn’t make things feel ok or better or like they ever will be.  I know they will be – I’ve been through worse – but the problem is the more times I go through stuff the more times I think that I am destined to just always have the wrong ones gravitate towards me.

Other people make this look so easy, they seem to have so much fun and just seem to stumble upon their match.  I just constantly stub my toe as I wonder aimlessly around this forest, tangled mess that is my life.

I see my reflection staring back blankly – the little rivers of moisture on the window looking like they are making their way down my reflections face.  I smile at her – I know what she has been through – she looks back at me with sadness, as though she knows what could still be to come.  So I reach out and pull my sweater sleeve over my hand and quickly wipe the moisture away, wiping away the  face of the errors that I have made.

I smile.  There is no reflection to smile back at me this time but I can feel the smile – I can feel the joy it fakes me into feeling.  It’s a good feeling – even if it is not yet real.

My brother was right – there are a lot of bastards out there.  Why can’t he be right about the good and positive stuff too?

I turn around to face my little bedside mirror – peering into my eyes.  They look back almost bambi like – there are no tears – not even close.  I sort of expected there to be some – but there are none, not even a slight glisten – this makes me laugh internally.  Here I am all upset yet there’s not even one hint of a tear.

I look closer.  I look tired.  I figure I should try to get some sleep.



I look up at the window at the girl that has my heart.  She doesn’t know it but things were just too hard.  I couldn’t find a way that was going to make it work in the way I wanted it too – I was getting too stressed and too angry about life and would only truly smile when she was talking to me.  Too many people were noticing but I wasn’t ready to let the world know about her yet.  There was something wonderful about her being my little secret.  I couldn’t believe she was mine – I pinched myself so often I was sure I was going to leave a permanent bruise.  But I couldn’t let the world know about us I just couldn’t and I think she took that to mean I was ashamed.

And I was. Of me. Not her.  I just couldn’t believe that someone so beautiful, so smart, so cool would like me.  We were worlds apart but somehow cut from the same cloth.

She made me laugh.  She made me think.  I felt close to her even when I couldn’t see her.  She taught me so much in just one small conversation.  She’d make me notice things I had never seen before.

She took it as disinterest.  I was just in awe.

I felt her back away and I did nothing to pull her closer.  I didn’t know what to do – I’d never cared before – I had spent a life going through the motions.

Her very being made me ashamed of my own.

Her life was so rich I started to see mine as stained, tarnished, that something was dulling the sparkle.

She was the sparkle and yet somehow I made her feel that she was the one thing that was smothering out the flame.

I did what I always do.  I played the tough guy. I played it cool.  I was so scared of getting burnt, of burning her – that I ran to the coldest place I know.  My heart.

Only it wasn’t so cold anymore.  It was full of heat for her.

I can see her face, the blank eyed stare.  I have hurt the one thing I never wanted to even slightly tarnish and now I can’t even get close.

I tried to speak to her today.  She smiled, she laughed, she spoke to me but I could see that she was holding back.  That she was nervous, on edge.  I couldn’t tell what she thought of me anymore. I could see the smile was playful, but I did wonder if it was just her playing with it not turning into a snarl.  I could see in her eyes that I had killed something – something that was there long before I came along.

I had damaged her.  I hoped not for good – but I feared…

So I slunk back into the shadows letting her think that I had just changed my mind.  I knew she would hurt but I hope that by stepping back now it will only be me that aches forever.  Something she will never know.

I look back at the window one more time and see her reach out to wipe the window.  I hold my hand out so with my distorted vision it looks like we are touching hands.  I breath a quiet prayer for her to live a happy life and I wipe away my own tears in time with her wiping the window.  As she steps backwards – I do too, and I am gone, back into the shadows of her life where for a very brief moment I did emerge.


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