March 6, 2008
2:41 AM

About a Boy

If I could stop this tragedy would I?
would my actions seem biased and selfish; would you even listen?
Listen, maybe, but you would not like what I have to say, and I will hold nothing back from you. Not even to spare your feelings. We agreed as much.

Love? Has it already come to this? I had no idea… the gravity of this matter has caught me by surprise. I can feel the doors I locked deep inside myself begin to creak; feel that old jealousy stir anew. I promise, for your sake that I will keep eating your words like anacid; maybe this problem will dissolve before it begins.

I don't want you to be reduced to the broken-hearted boy, though I know your eyes alone have too much substance to be confined in this manner. It is torment, is it not? From my end to yours, these unanswered questions continue to circle unabated overhead and still we are no closer to the answer. If I try to contribute what little knowledge I have, is it even true? This second-hand information is even more unreliable than the mouth of the ulterior-motived woman who spouted the nonsense. I don't know what to believe anymore; neither I think, do you. Where does this leave us?

You, sitting miles away staring into the ashes of your cigarette as if that alone will summon the God answer. And here I sit, nothing more than a cell phone at 1 a.m. and no closer to finding the answer than when we started. No, I can feel the tears coming now. The old feeling washes over me and my heart breaks again in ways I promised you I would leave behind. It does no good to dwell, I know, but I would want nothing more than to be there, in that room holding your head in my lap and stroking your hair as if that act alone would send these demons away.

If only it were that simple.