Sotto Voce
Please forgive me if I’ve misinterpreted any or all of this.
It is very possible that my heart has clouded my intuition,
that my mind has merely come to the conclusions it wants to believe.
Or perhaps the soft voice of my ancient soul whispers the Truth. . .
She scares you. Her strength, her spirit.
But it is you that inspires that part of her,
makes her bold, daring –
gives her the courage to explore the world,
and her own potential.
You marvel at her sincerity,
how she knows you without prying
sees beyond the surface (that others blindly accept)
as if your skin were transparent
and your words drunk on truth serum.
For that, you’ve put her on a pedestal,
removed her from the ranks of others in your life.
Why me? you asked honestly.
Her answers to which will never satisfy
and you are glad she is resolute, unwavering.
The whole prospect is too much to think about,
so you try not to.
You go about your days,
but her words return, haunting you,
forcing you to face the fissures you have tried to ignore.
You’re afraid you will never measure up
to what you believe she deserves.
You don’t want to lose the connection you share,
her belief in you, your friendship.
You tell yourself, I can’t let her down.
I value her too much.
I’d have to protect her,
make sure we both succeed,
and I’m just not up for a job that big.
But it is you that has created these artificial demands.
She asks for nothing,
doesn’t want to change you,
isn’t interested in white picket fences.
The excuses are justifications
for the sadness you cannot control -
a sadness she knows well, shares,
with a sullen familiarity of the impenetrable walls it builds
to keep you from happiness, from peace,
from the very marrow of life.
She sees a strength in you
you’re not sure exists.
You question what you’ve done
to deserve this place in her heart.
How can someone so fragile be so intense?
Her delicate touch is too much to handle,
threatens to draw back the gossamer scrim
separating you from who you really are
and the life you want to live.
You’re afraid you’ll hurt her the way you’ve been hurt.
But most of all,
you’re afraid of loving someone that way again -
without reservation - like you did once before
when you thought someone else was the One.
You wouldn’t survive that excruciating pain again,
enduring the crushing agony, helplessly watching
as your heart was ground into an unrecognizable slurry,
your universe left unraveling and falling apart.
You know that she is different though.
For her you’d fall a million times deeper,
and that is incredibly terrifying.
She appreciates the music and the chaos,
understands the grueling process of it.
She shares your need for nature and the city,
for celebration and sacrifice, for time apart.
For that you respect her even more,
and take comfort in knowing she will
keep life from slipping through your fingers
like diamonds lost in the sands of time.
She would heal the wounds
that keep you from your family,
mend the broken bridges that
connect you to their love and support.
Looking in the mirror you shake your head in disbelief,
realizing what you can’t ignore any longer,
and your heart does a flam inside your chest.
Stepping off the train you ask the guy next to you
what day it is
and wonder what she’s doing at that moment,
how you’ll find her, and what you’ll say when you do.
Posted by Amanda at August 17, 2003 05:07 PM
