Just How Deep….

There was a time when I thought I could take the world and give it to you.

When I was younger and in a time where it was possible or at least I would feel as though I could. We were just children at the time. Who would have thought I wouldn’t see you or hear from you for years, at least at this point in time I never thought it possible?

27 years old and I can still remember the feeling I got when I met you. The joy that it brought to me, for someone that was young that must have been something for the soul. The older I get the more I feel the lives I have encountered. Especially from this one.

She was the one, but as you must know already, I let her get away.

The smile could warm the soul for years to come without even seeing it for years. She just had that way of making me feel at home, as I had been here for a lifetime and it’s never going to end.

To question this now is so easy and clear, but not to the foolish child that stole the dreams of my life today. Still knowing how you taste and how you smelled, still knowing how lost I can get in your eyes, still knowing what it feels to have your warmth against me. I can even hear you when you’re gone.

7 Years since the last time I saw your face. How cold I was because of something I had done years back. Wanting to reach out and touch what I had felt so many times before in my heart. Never knowing the pain, I feel today. Never knowing that you still could take my breath away. The feeling I had as I watched you walk away the last time to the feeling I have in my soured heart today.

Ice can’t feel this cold, can it. I tell myself this often. Is it my daily that makes me feel this way? Must I always push away what’s right? Too often I feel I’ve been in these shoes only to define insanity for myself by repeating the same actions. Why is the question and you were always the answer, but I let you go? Just let you walk away. Just let you think I was allowing this to happen. Not much a child could have done. Only to now know I was wrong. It was me who did this.

Wrong for making you hurt, wrong for letting you feel unwanted, wrong for not opening up. I lead the path for this to fail and can accept no remorse, for I was told remorse is reserved for the dead. I caused it and I should have fixed it. I let you think you had a hand when I dealt the cards.

I still feel the scars I’ve laid upon myself. Deep they run and visible to only me. No one to ask and no one to know. These scars I wear aren’t external and they aren’t for show. The pain is real, so much to acknowledge moving forward, knowing I caused something like this and not knowing if the scars match at the other end, and if they do I can only apologize as no words can cure this aliment.

I know this first hand.