Maybe Love Never Really Dies


We are a tragedy. Or perhaps I should use the word were. We were a tragedy. Sparks in all directions, turned to dark explosions near the end. I didn’t realize you could extinguish something so powerful.

Then again is it truly extinguished?

They say you live through your memories, learn from the past. Perhaps with that we will live on. Is that okay? The earth can’t live on without the warmth of the sun’s rays. I’m supposed to be the sun. Yet dreams and my mind’s dark adventures, jaded hopes, show me otherwise.

Is this all a figment of a taped heart? Pieces stuck back together in a haphazard way? Can something broken ever fit again? Does a long, slow patch job trump the hasty trappings of another?

You were a rock I was trying to draw blood from. I began to know you better than those you called your best friends. I read the words you never said and the expressions you didn’t realize you were making. I saw the insecurities and unspoken sadness, the deep dissatisfaction that resided in your soul.

We set out with the right intentions, but ended up on the wrong page. I wanted you in a deep, almost desperate way.

What did you want?

I never imagined how easily four simple words could haunt but then again, I never thought five years later I would still be writing about you.