Cascades of gentle touch, her passion blinding my eyes.
I find I lose myself, drowning from her colorful sky.
I'm aware of her grace...those careless kisses.
She's my Zen, my own, my only Shangri-La.
She's my french champagne, she's my ooh la la.
Like a gentle wind she moves, a fascination I desire.
She's a butterfly, she's a Mona Lisa smile.
Tattooed on a sacred place, she's a mystery.
Wondering if she loves me, she's a mystery.
She's a sweet confusion.
I can hold her tight.
Yet she's free to fly in and out of my life.
She's a mystery.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
One score and two days into the seventh month in the year nineteen hundred and sixty-nine, a dark depression was released upon the face of the Earth. Two score and two years later, that depression still exists. That depression would be...me. If you can't tell so far, I am not a big supporter of birthdays. That "enjoyment" of the day of my birth ended during the summer before my senior year of high school. Since that day, my usual routine for this day consisted of taking the day off from work and barricading myself in my room...not really wanting to see or talk to anyone. And for a good twenty years, that's how it went. THIS year however....well, due to circumstances beyond my control, I HAD to be at work, I HAD to deal with people.
I received the usual ritual from family. The eldest brother said "Happy Birthday Jim" as I was walking out the door to go to work..and then didn't say anything to me for the remainder of the day. Mom called me that night and, because of strange timing and odd circumstances, my father and I didn't get to talk until three days later. There was ONE person I was hoping to hear from, though. Not so much to hear her say the words "happy birthday", but just because I wanted to hear her voice. The day came and went with no word from her. I tried to call her the next day, our usual day to try and talk, but she was out of town with HIM and I didn't even get to hear her voicemail message as that has changed to some prerecorded message in some strange guys voice.
It has been awhile since I have talked to her, my Muse. This, more than anything else, causes my heart and my spirits to plummet. Yes, just the sound of her recorded voice can sustain my soul until we actually speak to each other again, but I am denied even that now. Perhaps she might see these words and try to call...but as the saying goes "I'm not going to hold my breath". This...is my Curse. I don't believe that anyone else can truly understand it as such, unless they experience it themselves. I NEED her...in whatever manner I can get. Even if it is merely hearing her voice in a recorded message.
I know I will never get to live the Dream. That dream is to be with her, but she and I have had that discussion before. I will always be the Good Friend. Unfortunately, that seems to be my role in the life of every woman I have ever had a true interest in...the Muse...the Enchantress....the Innocent.
Thus I have given up hope.
What little soul I had left has been crushed.
The dream is ended.
All that remains...is the Curse......and the Dark.