I know that he is mad at me.... Because when he is, I am moved down his list of friends and He acts like he is ignoring me...when in reality he visits my page more often in a day then he quenches his thirst.
He has to fight against violent pictures posted on my page and harsh words whispered at me. He has too.
If EVER there was a man passionately and obsessively in love with me, it would be Him.
I sigh, roll my eyes and ignore him to the best of my ability.
But I smile while I do it. It is the masochistic side of me, I imagine...to enjoy it.
I started writing with him damn near three years ago. His passion and quick wit ensnared my own. Quick to laugh. Quick to make me laugh. I know the sound of his smile.
I have heard his voice thick with sleep....and with mourning.
Friendship turned passion turned passionate yearning.
Maybe it was wrong.... Okay I know it was. But he is part of my path. One layed before me. One I chose to take.
I do not regret it.
He is the bearer of flower crowns and sweetly pressed flowers. Voodoo dolls and Books of love letters. Harsh words, followed by sweeter ones.
Songs sung to me under covers and a friendship so thick, nothing could break it.
Lies even thicker, I could never imagine them.
He broke my heart and in turn I broke his.
To this day, He has made SEVERAL of my days, never forgetting a special one. Not a birthday or a holiday. Be it a word about my father on Memorial day or a tie sent to my son on his birthday. "because every young man should know how to tie one."
He hates it when I cry and sings songs to me in a broken whisper.
Days flow and beat into weeks. Months pass...and we don't really speak. But he is still part of my path. One that is deeply sunk into me.
