We talk and we still feel it.
To deny it would be suicide, and at first, I thought it just me, feeling this ribbon between us, the soft ties. But no, he shakes his head, tries to fight it, yet feels it just the same.
A platform we alone live on. A space for us. The buttery smooth forever we glide in.
We don’t know. I don’t know. He doesn’t know. Does love have an expiration? Can you still feel it, not the biased love you have for family or the durable one reserved for children, but the thirsty love you have for the one meant for you, can you still feel that even if there’s something so irrevocably broken you can’t actually see around it? Does love play hopscotch in time, finding us 15 years ago, but then not again for another 5, or 15?
Can we love and yet still be completely and utterly wrong for each other, the us now, the us tomorrow as well?
There’s an ache when I imagine him gone-utterly foreign to me, not like losing my mother or being adrift in the world. The ache I imagine you’d feel if someone took your arm-the space once occupied never quite empty. He belongs with me, we belong with each other. Our souls know, somehow, and if I believed in other lives, I’d think we’d known each other then.
But maybe now wasn’t good either. Perhaps we should wait for another life, when we are both cats sipping on cream.
My heart, my head and my body are so woefully confused, conflicted and sad. What we have isn’t working, but being able to see the what was, the what could be-it’s so painful, like daggers.
I have not stopped loving him. I just do not love who he has become, and likely, this goes in the reverse. We aren’t those people anymore, but we just can’t seem to find each other right now. And it hurts. It hurts to watch the past wave in his eyes, and crave him then.
Maybe there’s no hope. There’s so much between us, and yet, there’s this rope, this line that pulls us, magnets to each other, and we both stand wondering if it means anything at all, too confused under it’s power to figure it out. I just want us to be happy, together, or apart. I just want happy.
Spin Me I Pulsate 
Oh oh oh! I hope together! But obviously a lot would need to be worked out and resolved before that could be better than what led to this breakup.
Lord, please give these two clarity, understanding, and wisdom; courage, patience; and every other grace they need for living in this confused moment. Bless their communication and introspection. Move, whisper, work, to return them to each other in a stronger, more fruitful way.
And if the decision remains to stay apart, continue to bless them with this civility and caring for one another, this lack of the kind of rancor and bitterness that makes some folks attack one another.
Me and Bart, we went through the separation for a year, then we got divorced, then we both grew, changed, and stayed the perfect people for each other. There is always hope where there is love. No one understands it, but its there, that perfect connection. I wish you hope and love.
thinking of you.
Wouldn’t it be so much easier if the love had left? I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hoping, as if that’s something I shouldn’t do. (I trust that makes sense. Interpretation: good vibes your way.)
I wouldn’t even call it hope. Confusion. It would be easier to hate at this point. Hate is cleaner.
Confusion sounds about right. The push and the pull of it all – history, future, now, good, bad, wonderful, awful. You’re doing it well if you’re open to it all and feeling it fully.
It took me a very long time to see that hope isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
It sounds like a really good marriage counselor may help. I hope it all works out for the best…whatever that is.