The Love Rock

If I went to the stall with my rosary and contrition you’d be the sin I’d confess. If I were arrested and put in a cell you’d be the crime I’d write down on paper and give to the judge. If I were in Jr. High and I were whispering in my girlfriend’s ear, I’d tell her I put a note in your locker that said you had a secret admirer. It’s hard to admit you pine for someone who doesn’t want you. It’s also one of the most glorious aches I’ve ever had. It’s a vibrant polished stone worn down by all the things I miss and wish for. I carry it in an imaginary pocket and let it shine love on people who actively love me. I admit it helps me create a life worthy to carry such an undisclosed devotion. When love and sex and friendship and memories are suspended in time without conclusions or the day-to-day minutiae that can erode passion, it stays in that magical place where, for a brief moment, everything was perfect.

What I really have to admit is that even though I’ll never get over you, I am an extremely happy person. I don’t think all secrets and little flames of unrequited love are bad or bad for us. I am a more passionate and skillful lover because of it. I am braver because of it. I have pined before I met you and I will pine again when the universe sends me someone else who is in the time and space I am in and whose chemistry mixes with mine to make everything clearer and more alive. I let this happen without judgment or a time frame. I always hope that when it does happen it is reciprocated and I will get to have just one more love affair before I die. Until then I will reach into my pocket every now and then and hold the rock in my hand and feel its healing energy. Every kind of love, even the secret kind has solace. I don’t tell anyone I still feel for you this way because it makes me seem pathetic, and it makes me seem sad, and I am not.

If you are out there and you still think of me, you can always come home as a friend or a lover whichever you choose. If I ever see you again I will know if I can confess it all. If you are happy and free and where you want to be I leave you in peace and put my shiny, secret, polished love rock back into my imaginary pocket where I carry it until I come to the place on the trail where I can leave it. The rock is made up of the round pad on your fingertips, the darting blue of your eyes, the millionth time you cleared your throat, the gentleness of your laugh, your poetic stream of consciousness, the sinful taste of your tongue, your curiosity, your undying faith in people, your addictions, your self loathing, your silence, and your fear. I hike upwards and keep my pockets and pack with only the essentials. I pull my secret love rock out every once in awhile and put it in the sun to admire its beauty. I cry sometimes when the weight of the rock is too heavy and it slows me down. Along the way of life I have stacked all of my love rocks into Cairns to show the path along the trail so I can navigate my heart without becoming lost.