i had been with her for three months. three of the greatest months of my life.
i am a poet. she loved my writing. it was a sonnet i'd written for her that had won her heart.
it all happened on a friday evening. usually on fridays we'd share a walk around the block, but it rained, and we stayed inside. i put on some bob dylan and sat with her on the couch
"i love this song"
the song was tangled up in blue. i mouthed the words and she giggled like a schoolgirl. strangely, she had never laughed like that before, a laugh that felt almost forced. somewhat confused, i turned off the music and stared into her face. she smiled at me like a chershire, but it was her eyes that drew me in. though she smiled, her eyes began to twitch. unable to fake it anymore, she exploded into tears.
"who are you trying to be?
who is this? this isn't you!"
"i don't understand"
"of course you don't understand me
how could you, when you don't understand yourself?"
i sat puzzled as she gripped my hand
"i've been reading your work, and i see your image in it
who do you ever expect to be
when all you write is bleak,
dripping in misery and regret?"
taken aback i replied
"they're only words"
disgusted, she told me
"no, to any other guy, they might be words
but to a poet, words
words, when connected, open doors
doorways to your heart, your being
i can see inside your hallways
and i see no love"
"but i do love you"
"you throw around words like love
pretending to know what they mean
but it isn't love when it comes from the mouth
when the love is born in your heart
then we will be together
but not now"
with that she walked outside. shocked, i felt almost paralyzed. with concrete legs i nearly crawled to the door left ajar. seeing her walk away, i was too hurt to cry, even speak. she turned around, and seeing her eyes, almost worried, in the rain, she said
"before you can ever love me, you must love yourself" |
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