There was this one period of time where I was all, “man, gonna really get my thoughts out on a regular basis. Goal is to only ‘like’ as many posts as I’ve posted myself.”
I am now at 86 posts…
and 177 liked.
“I know you love me, and that’s enough for me.”
That’s what I was told,
The conclusion of a long night of push and pull.
Good enough for you, but what about me?
Was your acknowledgment of my “care,”
This mutual understanding, an affection that we share,
Is this the end that I’ve been hoping to see?
See, I was taught that love was more than just a feeling.
It was more than finding what makes you smile,
More than proclaiming truths that only last for a while.
See, I thought love meant wanting the best for you. Period.
The thing is, I don’t want to just be your friend,
Just one more man, pushed past the perimeters of your heart,
Telling me this but not that, stopping the relationship before we can start.
I want to be deeper than our blood already runs.
But it feels like, whenever we talk for-real-like,
My logic fails me, my tongue freezes, and I’m stuttering,
My high, high hopes come tumbling down, their engines sputtering,
And we leave together, a little further apart then when we began.
Here we stand, two men made from the same stuff.
Waiting for the next time we’ll do this dance that we’ve done.
And all I can do is hope that my Truth is the right one.
‘Cause if it’s not? I’ve been a bigot and a fool.
Maybe I’ll just have to learn to love you at arm’s length,
Because there just might come a day, later if not soon,
When my “love” isn’t good enough for you, too.
And our managed proximity comes crashing down.
“I love you, even if you don’t want anything to do with me.”
Words I hope I’ll never have to say.
But I will, and I’ll mean it, when comes that fateful day.
I picked it up on my way out and put it in my pocket, like any other day. It was a pretty little thing - a gift from my sister when she traveled to Spain. Smooth wooden build, stainless steel, “Toledo” imprinted on one side of the blade. I had only started carrying it with me again a few months ago. It didn’t make a very efficient box cutter at work, but it was a lot more fun to show off. I do love to show off my trinkets.
When we got to the fair, the volunteers at the gate asked us to empty our pockets. Instinctively, I pulled out my wallet, my phone, my keys.. and the pretty little knife my sister brought back to me.
“I can bring this in right? It’s just a pocket knife.”
“Oh no you can’t! You got to throw it away or put it back in the car.”
“Can I just leave it with you? I’ll pick it up on the way out.”
“I’m leaving soon, but she’ll be here.”
And so I handed my pretty little knife, the memento from Spain, my sister’s gift to me, to a stranger, and I walked into the fair.
Two hours, a corn dog, a turkey leg, and a fried bacon cinnamon roll later, we were back at the gate. Dozens of people exiting, finding their ways to their respective cars, nobody manning the gates. The girl was long gone, and my knife was, too.
“Dude, that sucks,” my empathetic friend sighed.
I gave him a crooked, half-hearted smile.
“It’s all good, man. I’d rather live life trusting too much than trusting too little.”
And I wish the story ended there, but as we walked back to the car, I could only think about how little I believed my words. I want back what was mine. What was given to me. And I’m frustrated because I didn’t lose this precious gift because I “trusted” a stranger. I lost it because I was careless. Because I was lazy.
I don’t want to lose precious things because I’m lazy and careless. I’m done with hyper-spiritualizing my mistakes to make myself feel better for the childish decisions I make.
So yeah, I lost something tonight. Maybe a couple things. God, don’t let them be lost in vain. Never in vain.