I will not make the same mistakes that you did.
I will not let myself cause my heart so much misery.
I will not break the way you did; you fell so hard.
I’ve learned the hard way to never let it get that far.

Because of you, I never stray too far from the sidewalk.
Because of you, I learned to play on the safe side so I don’t get hurt.
Because of you, I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me.
Because of you, I am afraid….

I lose my way, and it’s not to long before you point it out.
I cannot cry because I know that’s weakness in your eyes.
I’m forced to fake a smile, a laugh, every day of my life.
My heart can’t possibly break when it wasn’t even whole to start with.

I watched you die; I heard you cry every night in your sleep.
I was so young; you should have known better than to lean on me.
You never thought of anyone else you just saw your pain.
And now I cry in the middle of the night for the same damn thing.

Because of you, I never stray too far from the sidewalk.
Because of you, I learned to play on the safe side so I don’t get hurt.
Because of you, I try my hardest just to forget everything.
Because of you, I don’t know how to let anyone else in.

Because of you, I’m ashamed of my life because it’s empty.
Because of you, I am afraid…

About one year ago, I found this in the shed behind Mama Compton’s.

(Yes, that is food, not kitten vomit. The best I had before a run to Petsmart was warm milk and canned cat food all mushed up.)

We went through a couple of trips to the emergency vet we couldn’t afford to save her life. “We can’t keep her. We have Harley.” “Yeah…riiiight.”

Gizzy and I take turns driving each other nuts.

I heard this on the radio, on the way home from work. You shoud hear it, too.

Hey There Delilah

…I would lay awake all night, thinking over how and when things went wrong, and wallowing in misery and guilt. Then I would nod off in mid-thought, and dream of you – of being with you and everything being right.

I would start awake with the knowledge that you were the one. The clock says 9:12 and your flight leaves at 9:45.

I race to the airport, driving like a maniac – perhaps the cops pull me over for speeding and I convince them to help me because the only man I ever truly loved is leaving and I must stop him.

The terminal is crowded and I’m running through the airport, bumping into people, weaving and dodging. You’re next in the security check line.

I call out. People on all sides stare at me. Security balks and rushes me. I call your name again, and you turn to see me get taken to the floor by the guards. You jump the rope, leaving your (my) bag behind, rush to my side, to my aide.

Security lets me go, of course, understanding at once what is going on, and the music swells as you help me to my feet and into your arms. “I love you,” I say. You stop me with a kiss.

—

I’m still awake. I’ll nod off eventually, and though I won’t race to the airport to stop you…
…my heart is calling your name.

I went through all of it. The second I got home.

I listened to track 18. Over and over, till my eyes wouldn’t cry any more tears.

The Doves – Sky Starts Falling

Someday, I’m going to make music videos.

I once played Cassandra in a Greek tragedy. The god Apollo fell in love with her and bestowed upon Cassandra the gift of prophecy, but when she did not return his love, he cursed her as well: no one would ever believe what she had to say. Her gift then became an endless source of frustration and pain.

I, myself, am not blessed with prophecy. But you don’t believe what I say, and nothing I can do will convince you I tell the truth. Frustration and pain.

Cassandra eventually became what everyone already believed she was: mad.

Give me back my dreams
I’ve been counting these sheeps
Since I can’t remember when

Give me back my sleep
I’ll be dreaming of you till I wake up crying again
I have lain awake through the longest hours
Wondering whether to cry or scream

You can take my heart
It was always yours
Just give me back my dreams

When the clock strikes three, I don’t care anymore about you or anything
When the clock strikes four, I could sell my soul just to hear my telephone ring

You don’t have to talk to me the way we used to talk for hours
We don’t have to talk at all, but may I send you flowers?

The little goodbyes help. They work so much better than one big, long, tearful goodbye.

Watching you walk out the front door for the last time, with the promise of seeing you again before you leave.

Driving to your hometown – albeit against your wishes – and being able to talk on your porch. Cuddling a little; crying a little.

The phone call today…you sounded so much better. It helped to hear the happiness in your voice.

At least one more visit. And being the one to take you to the bus station. This is all I want. Continued communication. I love you – I always will. It doesn’t matter how many diamond chips this ring loses, or if someday it ends up in a jewelry box: it’s always on my finger. And you’re always in my heart.