Tag: aloveletter

You held me.

Years ago – in a letter to my dead grandmother – I wrote,

I disappear.

I disappeared.

I was disappearing.

And then he saw me.

You saw me anyway.

And in your own way – you were breathing life into me. Ultimately, in the end, I think breathing life into me, made you breath life out of yourself, and you had to let me go.

So, you let me go.

Usually when I think of the men in my past – I think of the pain that came from those unions, I think of them as having shined negative light on my life, dimming my own.

But you’re different. I remember the joy that came from our union. I think of the glow you brought into my life, a neon light at the end of the tunnel, a beacon in the night.

You held me.

I don’t mean with your physical touch.

I mean,

you

held

me.

Even when you let me go,

you

          held

                     me.

You were holding me.

You

are

holding

me.

Have you ever had someone touch you without touch?

Have you ever had someone caress you with their words?

Have you ever had someone hold you with their heart?

You were my friend before you ever became my lover.

 You held me.

You communicated openly. You let me see your heart.

You held me.

I never had to question where you were or who you were with. Trust came easy.

You held me.

You understood me, like we were speaking in a language from a life before this one. Maybe your melancholy heart just understood my melancholy heart.

You held me.

I could be naked with you.

You held me.

Your eyes catching and locking with mine across the bar through the smoke, sweat, body heat, and liquor smell.

I felt you before I saw you, too.

You held me.

Your desire for me was always reflected in your eyes. Your hunger exciting me.

You held me.

You made me breakfast every morning that we woke up together.

You held me.

You took the time to read my heart.

You held me.

Your laughter was the soundtrack of my life for months.

You held me.

You would stay up with me even when you had to be up early in the morning for work.

You held me.

You were my first kiss. The first time you kissed me – you drunkenly made me ramen noodles. taking care of me even at the beginning. I was nervous and word vomiting all over the place because I knew that you were going to kiss me with your whiskey mouth. You told me to shut up and you kissed me. Being with you, was like a ramen noodle and whiskey kiss. Not understanding why two things, two people, who shouldn’t work together – work together. Shutting up, so we could shut the whole world out together.

You held me.

That night, when the stars were big and bright in Texas (not like the song, but literally) you led me through the dark in the woods, using steps you had memorized to a clearing – showing me your place to get away from the loud of the world and into the silence. Woods surrounding us, crickets chirping, breeze blowing, you held me.

Someone can hold you without ever using their hands.

They can hold you with a look,

a laugh,

a whisper,

their heart,

their mind,

their soul.

I hope that you’re not having to breath life into anyone.

I hope no one is having to breath life into you.

It’s hard work, I know.

I hope you’re simply breathing easy and living easy – and still loving – oh so hard.

I hope you were held.

If not by me, then someone after me.

I hope you’re held now.

I hope you’re holding someone.

You are still holding me, not in a can’t get over you type of way – because I am over you, but the way you loved me, the way you held me, is STILL, to this day, tiding me over until someone else can hold me.

I hope someone, someday can hold a candle to you.

You held me.

–S.

Ode to my Forever Friend, my Constant Companion.

Music,

It’s been many years since I’ve written you – although we are never apart, forever together.

You’re like an imaginary friend with no physical body. I guess if I had to explain what you look like or feel like – I would say that you are like the caress of the wind. You are able to touch without a physical presence. So, thank you for your magic and your wonder.

Your words have helped me to realize that I’m not alone in many things that I’ve felt over the course of my life and those ties that bind have helped me to sustain my belief in humanity – helped me to always remember that at the core, we all feel.

You also sustained my belief that love exists. I don’t know that I can say that I’ve felt that earth-shattering, out of this world love connection with anyone yet, but I remember how many times you’ve sung about it – in different genres. So, I trust that you know what you’re talking about. After all – how could there have been that many loves worth singing about and not one for me? So, I believe.

I appreciate that you’re ever-changing, but also constant. We’ve grown together over the years. Evolving and maintaining all at once – into forever.

I don’t imagine that we will ever run out of silence, sounds, words, or even time. That lets me know that you are one of few people or things that will truly follow me to the end. This brings me ultimate peace. It would only be right that the presence that was the soundtrack of my life would be there with me to meet my death.

I appreciate the high echoes of your piano notes, and the low timbre of your guitar strokes.

You’ve made me cry.

You’re made me laugh.

You’ve reassured me.

You’ve reminded me.

You’ve taught me.

You’ve made me smile.

You’ve made me hum.

Most of all – you’ve made me dance.

You’ve held my hand for a long time.

I’ll be feeling you – in the next song, always in the next song.

–S.