06/15/00 - 05:12 AM

I will never be too
Far away to feel you.
And I want hesitate at all
Whenever you call.
And I will always remember
A part of you so tender
I'll be the one to catch your fall
Whenever you call.

So many sad things to write about. So many heartbreaking memories to recall. So many things to wish for, hope for. Remembering the feel of your arms as you slip them around me.

You haunt me so much now that I can't even recall what it was like to love other people. Jackass has waltzed back into my life, asking for another chance. He talks about how he has changed. I am wary. I want to throw a protective shield around me and just dance. Dance until it all disappears. Until I just don't feel anymore, or maybe until I don't remember anymore. Like other traumatic memories buried deep in the recesses of my mind. I can't even access part of my history anymore. Can I please just store you with all of those pages of my life?

I keep trying to slice away the fingerprints you left inside me. And I have these dreams that I entertain. Of you and I rekindling what we were, what we could have been.

Just when I have begun to re-grow the skin I've cut away. Someone mentions your name. My family mostly. My parents who miss you. As their future son, as the man they pictured me with forever. My father wonders what I ever did to you that would make you break up with me. I make him change the subject.

I will always grasp tightly to the innocent days of our romance. I will always hold you, my first love, closer than anyone else. I doubt anyone will be able to penetrate me the way that you do. No one will be able to look at me the way you did. And no matter how much I keep trying to replace you, no one will be able to lay perfectly over the hole you left in me.

They fumble with me, clumsily caress my face. All I think of is your embrace. The soft touch of your lips brushing over mine, the warmth of your hands on my skin, your scent.

This diary has become more of a book of love letters to you than anything else. I will write and write, fill and fill, and give to you someday.

Maybe when we are old and gray and you will laugh at me and my silly romanticism. My foolishness. But I always liked it when you laughed at me, darling.