I Was In Love ONce

I cried writing the last email I sent to Morpheus--the first time I've cried in months.

I tell myself that this is making me closer to healing--closer to closure. Someday, I'll wake up and I won't miss him or love him anymore. I won't have any letters in me to write because I would have said all there is to say. This day will be gentle and sweet, and if you ask me how I am on that day, I'll say, "Great."

Later on, I'll find a nice guy who loves me softly and soothing, and maybe I will find it in my soul to give back to him something I can't even imagine now. He will be patient because it's in his nature. He will wait for my broken heart to come around to him.

Maybe in time, I will learn to say, "No" to the past, and "yes" to renewal.

I won't tell him that I once believed in loves of your life. That you loved only once, and then something inside of yourself could only be given away a single time. A piece of you died that day. You float on light, and die too--for love. I won't tell him these things because he is the reasonable man who is caught up in reasonable things living in a reasonable house with a reasonable job.

"Of course you can love more than once," he would say, sitting at the table, licking the spoon of ice cream. It's diet, frozen yogurt.

He takes the pressure off of mania by watching at late hours, picking you up at the bars--messy hair, messy mood. His patience is then only irritating. You only want to throw up in peace.

I was in love once.