Prose

XI

And I've come to realize that some of my best days start with you. And I've come to realize that this stupid hope doesn't seen to go away. And I've come to realize that this trust in you doesn't waver with each passing breath; it simply grows.

I can't seem to understand just how it works and why it works like it does.

And I've come to the point where I don't use my 11:11 wishes on knowing you, but forgetting you.

I want to wake up and smile at the rising sun and think of only me. You will no longer be my first and last thought. I want to say goodnight to the few stars that dare to break through the smoggy, lightened New York sky and think of only me. You will no longer be my first and last thought. No longer.

This I swear.

This I hope.

You will not plague my dreams or be there when my eyelids screw shut. Your name will not jump around my head and your voice will stay pushed back to the corner until it is dissolved into simple dust.

This I swear.

This I hope.

And, finally, after my pen has spilt the inked words of my victory, I have realized that is is nothing to you. It is simply a loss to everything that I have hoped for and wished for.

And I have come to realize that some of my worst days, too, start with you.

But they end with you too.

March 31, 2014 4:07pm