I never should have loved you

I know that now

for even then I saw

good-bye in your eyes.

You were so innocent, so naive..,

You were everything I thought

I ever needed to see.

I never should have loved you

you never really knew me.

Mama told you what to believe,

Papa called you a fool

to love a dreamer, an artist,

A man who lived only

by his own rules.

I never should have loved

you but your tears blinded me.

I thought you understood.

Instead you slipped thru my fingers.

You offered me a dagger

and then cut into my soul.

I was young when I met you

but our good-bye had turned me so old.

Now, if ever I think of you

I whisper to myself

I never should have loved you,

you were only fool's gold.

I used to walk the streets of New York City holding your hand. My memories were focused on the feel of your hand on mine, the jacket I stole from your closet sitting on my shoulders, and the sixteen minutes of conversation that existed between my front door and yours.

We were freshmen in college, unencumbered by the world. Everything was beautiful. We fell in love alongside the falling leaves, our lives changing alongside the seasons. But fall only lasted so long, and as winter approached, so too did the end of our relationship.

A year later, I walk alone. The streets of New York City are different now, the autumn colors and leaves mean different things. My memories are of the sidewalk crack at the corner, which almost looks like it could be a bird. They are of the park bench with the chipped green paint, where a couple sits every Saturday afternoon, falling in love like I used to. They are of my own hands, in a pair of gray woolen gloves, because while I still remember the feel of your hands, I think I know mine better now.

Some things have stayed the same. The seasons still change, the leaves still fall, and the wind still blows. But you and I walk separately, and the leaves no longer fall for us- but for you, and me, and change.

I have changed, and I think the leaves will celebrate that too.

Need:

the 4-letter word

of my youth.

To ask

for anything

from those who

were supposed

to care for me,

was to be seen,

to expose myself,

not only to rejection,

but to the

denial of need,

sometimes in the

harshest of ways.

Was there anything

more painful,

more shameful

than needing

love, care, food,

support from those

unwilling or unable

to give it?

Of having that

hope crushed

again and again?

So I shoved it down,

figured it out,

found my way.

And when

the starvation

of need

became so

apparent,

that even

they saw it,

deny it.

Deny it.

Because somehow

in that reality, in that

world of theirs,

the deprived

become the

comforters,

my child self

assuring them

that I had no

need.

So bereft

of attention

that those

few moments

of watching them cry,

murmuring that I

understood,

telling them that I didn't need,

that it was no big deal;

at least those few

moments

meant being

noticed

for a time.

And worse, to then

in my child mind,

take those

moments as evidence

that they did care, that

their tears were a reason to

push down my need even

further.

After all, I don’t want to make them feel bad.

Those moments,

elusive and short-lived,

leaving me even more alone

each time, sealing in the barren spaces.

Taking their denial

of my need

onto, into myself.

Now I look

back at the long

road of my life,

the twisting journey

of adulthood.

And I see it.

The denial of need,

still there,

now self-imposed.

The one-sided

relationships,

the self-loathing and

self-abuse,

the sacrifices made

on the altar of my

career.

The pushing, striving

going further

than anyone else.

Because I was

'committed',

'driven', a 'hard worker'.

But in new light,

it was the

denial of need

showing up

again and again.

I have continued to

wound myself,

not by having needs,

but by

denying them.

By sorting through

this mess, opening

my eyes to the past,

sitting with pain

day by day,

the dark root of

the shame that

has haunted me

all my life,

begins to reveal

itself in the

denial of need.

Sealed tight,

locked down.

For so long

this body waited

with only the

barest of breaths,

in darkness.

Waiting for

the blow to land;

to be invisible in plain sight;

the pain of daily exclusion;

cruel words that seared the soul;

needing but not receiving,

That was long ago but

it is the holding, the waiting

that is sealed tight,

locked down,

this body is bound.

And yet, could it be?

the barest of life

returning to this place.

Is that the stirring of a breeze?

The tip of a blade of grass?

A hint of possibility

in the air?

And so spring creeps slowly

back into this body

one breath at a time.

Making space, allowing

some semblance of

a bud to form.

To emerge fresh and new

from the black soil of

possibility.

The blossoming of

prayers long planted,

of a new way, new life.

beneath this ink-bled

sleeping sky

a sweet, unraveled longing

and all the ways

i dare to think

of how i’d make you mine

Why do others get to let the darkness inside overtake them,

and I have to pretend that I am fine

and that nothing is wrong

and I'm not this huge,

depressed mess

all the time?

Physically I'm here.

Mentally, I'm hiding under the covers,

hair unwashed,

not wanting to eat

or drink

or see the light.

And it feels like no one cares.

Or maybe they just choose to not care.

I just want someone to see my struggle

let me cry

and tell me that it will be okay.

I want someone to acknowledge that I am keeping it together

and that it is okay to feel completely burnt out.

I just...

want someone to look past the mask

that has been plastered to my face for so long...

“Will it always be this way?”

I ask you while we are intertwined, naked, close.

The world exists only within these four walls. Time is irrelevant in this moment.

We are gazing into each other’s eyes as if discovering new dimensions. You run your finger up my arm, tracing the marks, intrigued to know more.

I shiver, not because it’s cold, but because I feel electric. You’re looking at me like I’m the only person in the world that exists.

Days go by and we become part of each other’s every day lives. We are intertwined through body, heart, soul, mind. You tell me how much you are amazed by me, and how lucky you are to have found me. I feel this too, when I look at you, I’m in awe. I have a strange sense of remembering you. All my life, you were like a distant memory that could have been a dream or fantasy, or something in-between. Memories carried over with the soul from previous lives. I’m home.

As the weeks go on, the love we have for each other encourages personal growth and we work to achieve it. In the process, we face challenges from our external and internal worlds. We trip and stumble over the triggers we pull. Unhealed wounds resurface to be cleansed. Exposed and open, vulnerability becomes like the ocean..coming in waves. I say things that hurt you, words that don’t always come out the way I mean. The shadow in me that comes out ugly and dark leaves a mark on your heart in a way I wish I could erase and replace with the look in your eyes when we first met. The look of adoration and admiration that only comes with a clean slate. The only feeling that is worse than the self-loathing I feel when I cause you pain is the way you look at me like I’m a stranger; as you withdrawal to become distant and cold. This is your defense mechanism, as I now know. The instinct to pull away, to think the worst. You ask me, “Will it always be this way?”

I flinch. To ask that question in a moment like this, a moment in time when you and I do not align and we aren’t seeing eye to eye..it hurts. And now we both are hurt. And that hurts. Because we don’t like to hurt each other.

As the months go by, we strive to do better. We air our grievances in a constructive way that doesn’t leave the other person feeling left out in the cold, alone. (Admittedly, I had to work harder at this than you, but you gave me room to grow.) And you have learned to put your guard down and to not run away. We still trip over ourselves, still get stuck in our own ways, but our love is strong enough to overcome any of these obstacles in our way. Will it always be this way?

As the years go on, our love and respect for each other has carried us through the best and the worst of times. And there have been so many good times, and some really bad times, too. We can look back at where we started and see how much we’ve grown and how much we’ve overcome. And how much we have changed. We have learned that life won’t always be this way, you won’t always be this way, and neither will I. We have fallen in and out of love with each other many times- with many different versions of who we were, who we are, and who we will be. Because, you see, love is a choice. And every day of my life, I have chosen to love you, as you have loved me.

Through times of doubt, struggle, pain, anger, sorrow-

and in times of laughter, happiness, joy, peace; in times of depression and times of grief, through times of madness and times of relief, through different dimensions, and spiritual planes, and moments frozen in time that only you and I can explain;

will it always be this way? The answer I know, is no. No it will not and that’s okay because we are not stagnant we cannot stay

Here

As we are. We will grow together and we will grow apart, fall apart, unraveling we will come apart and at times question if maybe it was better at the start

But

I know in my heart, we will never be too far apart. And just as we pull away we will find a way back to move forward.

You are the person meant for me,

And I for you, and through all the chaos that’s ensued I know

This one thing to be true,

When you look into my eyes,

I still feel butterflies.

©S.J.Reed

I’m sitting here at the airport and overhearing the most powerful & inspiring conversation:

A man is sitting with his father and openly talking about depression, suicide, the power of therapy, and the power of God.

He repeatedly said “I love you” and “I care about you”.

Let that sink in