freezi-writes

Fluid and flowing, the tune can't be forsook.

Laughing at you til you're in on the joke,

Creating content thats hard to evoke.

Bouncing and bobbing like deer through the trees,

It's only done right if it makes you feel free.

But to do something right, is that really the goal?

If to do something wrong still makes you feel full?

For the moon and the sun, two lovers they were,

Though so far apart, stars carried their words.

Hung long in the sky, their songs did not rush,

For poets had babbling brooks to discuss.

All my life I've had friends I would die for. That I'd spend my days thinking of and looking after. And always I would think that's my person. That's my someone.

But never was I their someone. I've never had my someone look at me and see the world. I had a best friend for seven years who told me she did not think me capable of kindness. She was my entire life. Everything I did revolved around her. And suddenly, she did not care. She had other friends who she liked better.

I do not blame her for moving on, but why shouldn't I? When all I've ever done is try to show people how much I love them only for them to think me clingy? For her to see only the eleven-year-old girl silver-tongued from abuse and not the optimistic young man I'd ripped myself apart to become?

It was so hard to keep myself open after that. To keep telling my new friends how much I love them. I managed, though, and still, nobody looks at me and sees everything I am. Everything I could be. I am no one's emergency contact. There's no one who calls me because they have news. I would love to tell someone my news. I'd love to tell you while we make dinner. Or while you drive home from work. I'll remember your coworkers' names and keep up with the drama. Please just be my someone. And let me be yours.

I pulled you into the back and just hugged you.

"helping or hurting?" I whispered.

"helping," you said. You hugged me tighter.

We stayed like that for a while. At one point you pulled me down so we were sitting and for what felt like hours I just held you.

I woke up melancholic. I am no one's someone. But for a moment, just a moment, I was yours.

Arms that could crack from a library stack makes a scholar that's poised to prevail.

And you know what they say about apples and days, but the doctor's a lonely chap.

And if he'd be found the talk of the town the dead man might land in his lap!

I insist that I ask nothing of you,

and then I end by pleading.

"I need no reciprocity"

(please stay)

"I do not need you to love me"

(please stay)

"I can love plenty for the both of us"

(please, darling, please stay)

I cannot decide if this is hypocritical.

I'm not sure how to find out.

In the mean time, though,

will you stay?

I know no other resolve.

I never believed in fate.

When I use the word preordained

I do not mean it cosmically.

I only mean to map the lovely coincidence

that we are so well matched.

I do not believe in fate.

So when I tell you that I love you,

know that it is a choice.

I'm aware that you do not love me.

It is not something I am worried about.

I feel as though I've always known you

because you are so easy to know.

It's hard to imagine a world

where you are not my friend.

You might as well be my sister.

I do not believe in fate,

and I do not pretend to know all of you.

That is the fun of it.

So please, if you don't mind,

let us keep learning.

You do not love me. I do not mind. That was never really my goal. The goal was to let you see how brightly you shine, if even through my eyes. See, I think you're made of Diamond. Strong, and reflective, and at the right angle I can see right through you.

I think I'm made of Sandstone. Easy to break. Easy to etch. But also everywhere. I refine myself into individual flecks of sand so that people can see through me. I let time recompress me into stone and I do it all again.

Most notably, though, I etch my love into my very being. Diamond and Sandstone make that awful easy. I write of your brilliance that you might see through your strength and understand. You try to keep up with my ability to crumble. My dear, that is not the point. I never wanted you to break the way I do. I still don't. I just want you to see the shine.