Released

Dangling its feet at the edge of my tongue lingers always a plea; "Adore me as I adore you!" In return, he shakes his head, ever so slightly, and his eyes whisper his apology so quietly it seems merely a thought. He can not.

He spends moments feeling heavy with the burden he placed upon me, guilt ridden that he stole my naivety. He sees my eyes with tears of heartbreak in them; Does he know his pain mingles with mine in those tears? A sorrowful dance of pity and understanding...

Though this heart is full with grief, it also holds its own guilt. Guilt laden with the sadness I feel for his loss. Pure melancholy that his heart is so very weary and wary that my truest love could not lighten its shadows and open it to joy. And guilt that I promised something I could not give; I could not stop myself needing his love.

His countenance lightens as we grow apart; he will return to himself, in time. The long siege on his heart is lifted and the refortifications begin. It is likely that only with those fortifications securely in place that he becomes assured that he is whole. That his world may again turn without insult.

Though we agree his love can not live here any longer, it is with incredible regret that I beg it leave. I beg it leave and not return. I beg it leave in haste and let this spirit heal so that it may find its joy.

So I write. This hand, once so inspired by his presence to dream of hope and passion, now spins prose of loss and sadness. The web so tangled with grief it seems as thick and black as ink. I write to exorcise him, hoping each drop of ink carries a piece of what he left behind away. To make distant the memory of his taste, his smell, the feel of him, his gaze. To make them vague and tolerable. Until he becomes just a man I used to know.

I vow to never again adore without first being adored. I vow to never again believe that it is enough to love without being loved. And I vow to always choose my heart above another's. This he gave to me.