good enough

i will never be that sound.. that carry over enhancing the space that lulls your heart to sing.
my beat will never click with your feet… will never carry a constant tune... for my syncopation is always on the 1, falling two steps behind the 3.
my notes dance in subtle tones that are only felt in silence. lingered by the scent of your song.
i will never be that voice you think of when you reach out into the darkness, for my hand is steady… a light that will never burn away..
i will never be that shadow that you wish to walk behind, for my silhouette is grooved the in spaces that wait for hurts to heal.
i won't break your heart that way, that unrequited desire that makes you yearn for more.
i am only me. flawed in my unseeming perfection. broken but whole enough to not give you what you think you need.
I can only give you this. this song, this tune, this shade, this heart.
I can only give you love.

Quote of the Day: Thoughts on Music

Music is most often used for communication because it transcends language barriers and circumvents emotional walls. If your music is doing neither of those things, maybe you’re not a musician. -Gavin Castleton

would you.

I can’t help that being here breaks me, mends me, makes me tender. I wish I could be stronger, careful, deliberate, different...

But understand that I can only be this, and apologize that though it is hard, I am always trying.

Then again, you've never made it easy to be careless, or care less. So, though we both wish I could stop, would you really want me to?

Dear Sir: Notes on an Afterthought

This house was not built by me, not entirely.

Such an enclosing space is safe, but this warmth is an accompaniment, not a compliment…

You might ask why?...
Confused at your contentment, when compared to my own.

And my answer would be: because, you have shown me your world, and yet never cared enough to ask me of mine. You share your heart willingly, and never ask for all of it in return, all of me. You love the notion of space, but have never felt the warmth of home.

And all because you’ve never cared enough to ask.

I now realize that my salve makes our walls firmer, and though I occupy this space, these bricks were assembled before I ever decided to extend my stay.

For those who might find comfort in deconstructing, I could see how one would feel constricted.

And yet, I feel less at ease in your quiet apprehension, in your implicit excitement at my slight departure, more at a loss for every step not taken, sadder with every walk not given.

To feel as if I am the cause and catalyst for much good and disenchantment is heartbreaking. I think it would be narcissistic to believe I could be more... for you. for us.

Then again I’ve never been one stay in one place. And for as much as I love misery, I could never live there, not with you. Not with anyone. Not anymore.

We are not so different, you and I.
I just wish you understood the difference.

My Reclamation: A Reconciliation for the New Year

Thinking about the past has been my one and only new years resolutions… finding ways to reconnect and reconcile with every piece of myself, has become one of the most taxing experiences of my life. And yet, it is a never ending venture that I have yet to tire from.

Being honest with myself and others, has never been too difficult for me. I’ve rarely been one to experience shame or be unable to reclaim parts of myself some might find devaluing to their character.

And yet, looking back over the past 2 years, I now realize that I had evolved into someone unlike myself. Someone defeated by the experiences that encapsulated my being, my worth…. and this sense of loss inevitably transformed me into something broken.

Now, whether or not others influenced this process, is currently irrelevant. Regardless, of my inability to see past another’s manipulations, I ultimately made the decisions that influenced my life… and allowed others, (as well as myself) to devalue my own worth.

There is no one to blame for this, not now… Not anymore. It is the past. Those were my decisions, and I would not trade them for anything. Regardless of the consequences, I would not be here today if things were different.

Tying up loose ends and cutting away dead weight has made my life enriched and fulfilled in ways that I have yet to fully actualize.... and yet last night forced me reevaluate things.

It reminded me of all the ties I have severed since then. Remains left unkempt without even an acknowledgement to signify its loss. I look back at where I was less than a year ago.. The people I surrounded myself with, and the people that currently remain.

And all I can think of is.... how much I appreciate this newfound silence.

I no longer want the same things I once did... My desire remains with recapturing remnants of my heart, while affirming parts of myself that I didn’t even realize existed.

The stillness and silence that has followed has been humbling.

This time has enabled me to cultivate a true sense of self, of love, and of home.

I am content… and though I don’t have much, I have abundance of everything that I need.

an interlude

I saw you in my dreams last night. which is quite strange, because it's such a rarity to dream... dream of others, dream of you. I find it disheartening that the notion of me aware... aware of you, will never suffice. that you linger… and weave within the most diminutive places… settle within warm spaces... permeating throughout my narrow consciousness.

it's unsettling that you are inescapable. that you will always be there. that as I write these words... I miss you... miss you more than my heart reasonably should... that I miss the warmth you gave me, that the memory of you still gives me while you’re away. in a cold that continually persists, you fill that space with light. that as I write this, I can read you in my words, in the songs that I hear, in the greatness of all that I see. in the pauses and long silences that break between each blink and every breath. and though there were others more significant in this delusion, I could see you.. remember you... my impression... in the periphery, lingering into view.

a 5 second memory etched in my mind, scarred in my heart. longing to recapture the warm summer past in my current cool spring. That’s what you mean to me.

Return to Sender

I asked, thinking I would get a different answer.
Different from all the others.
Thinking this time it was different.
I’m not one much for asking… or taking… especially when it’s the only thing I need.
In all honesty it was more like a wish.
The one thing I could only ask for, and give entirely in return.
For, I’ve never been one to hold on to much I could see, but feel. Measurements have never been my forte.
Increments don’t descend into inches in this vacuum, but more like miles stretched within an infinite space.
My placeholders are transparent, my gifts intangible.
It’s the only thing I know how to give:
my return to sender.
I wonder what this means?
Maybe it’s not something that’s meant to be given away.
Maybe it’s something meant to be shared in glimpses.
Bits and pieces,
but never an entire
whole.
Maybe it’s never been mine to share,
whether that be out of self-preservation,
or selfishness,
or because no one could ever truly give such a gift
and actually receive an equal return.
Maybe it’s time to give up that foolish notion…
time to finally bury my trinkets and placeholders…
time grow up a little more.
Burn the letters.
Better that than the alternative.