The me-that-is, with pieces of the me-that-was
Follows the you-that-is-always
And my heart yearns for answers,
Though truth is something none of us knows how to find.
I worry so much that we're wrong, that I'm wrong.
That I'll always be, at best
A pale shadow of what you want,
What you need.
If I keep you going, keep you from the edge,
Then maybe that's enough.
Maybe living in a dream is the best we can do, sometimes.
I want that fear to be wrong.
I want so much to be right.
With each touch, each kiss,
Do you regret?
Seeking forgotten emerald memories,
Seeing through eyes unopened.
We see the signs.
We read the past.
And we come to our answers,
And we hope --
God, how we hope! --
For it all to not come crumbling down around us.
At least, I do.
I do not doubt my heart.
But I do not know my heart.
Has it been here all along?
Or did it arrive recently, returned home from the wars
To find its once-home changed, different?
And every doubt opens another rift,
But I can't help but doubt
Because doubt comes when truth is ambiguous,
When we cannot be certain,
And how can I truly know if this is just adjustment
Or a sign that none of this should be?
I want neither.
It all scrapes against the rawness inside,
A rawness soothed when you are near,
When we are together.
My heart feels like it has always beaten for you.
If this is false,
If I am false,
Could I still see you sometimes?
© 2019 Ria Bridges