You’ve been haunting my thoughts lately. I tell myself that this is recent, this is new, this too will pass. This memory will fade and whatever happens between us will happen – and as I immaturely want to control it, I must not. I must let go and walk away and not think about you. There are a thousand possibilities – who knows.
Maybe someday you’ll be a good friend, and we can look back and laugh. Or you’ll be a lover, and this will be a part of our history. Or you’ll become a distant moment that I file away and recall only on similar occasions, on a fluke, when it’s convenient.
I wish to know that answer now, but I can’t.
I wish. I wish my son were not a fool. I wish my house was not a mess. I wish the cow was full of milk. I wish the house was full of gold – I wish a lot of things…
(For some reason, my night is written in Sondheim musicals)
I am perplexed by how alive and alone are two sides of the same coin for me.