I recently found this paper stuck in a book. You see, being a passionate and otherwise typical dysfunctional adult, I have been in love a few times. When I'm not in distress, I think of it as a sort of field study, geared towards figuring out what love IS (please don't ask if I have figured it out yet). As evidenced by my usual status, these episodes usually ended in disaster of one sort or another. This little document was typed up after I ran into a recently ex'd boyfriend, who casually asked "so, how are you?" I said "fine" of course, and when I got home, let it rip on paper.

In hindsight, I thought it was rather impressive, since I know now that broken hearts aren't fatal. In fact, I seem to get better at it, each time I dare. And, as the Desiderata says, "love is as perennial as the grass." Ah, but you've got to love that little lawn mower of life...

fine

How am I? 
     you asked.

Waited for you
     without a name.
Dreamed of you
     without a face.
Each breath
     knew you would come.
I waited
     Grew.
You came.
Wanted to be here.
     Wanted to be with ME.
          Said you would stay.
This won't be our last summer.

WASN'T IT?

Such joy to know you.
No compare, to share with you.
Tenderness. Laughter.
Sorrow. Comfort.
     Peace.
          Serenity.
Don't be scared, baby.

I believed. I knew
you were here.
All yours.
     All mine.
How could I have known
a NEED bred your love?
A need that would die,
     taking all your love with it...
Leaving a wound
     gaping.
          raw.

I gave all I could
     ALL FOR NOTHING.
You gave what you had
     at the moment.
And left.
     To grow.
     Did you have to THROW me away?

If YOU weren't real, what is?
You destroyed me inside.
     Do you know?
          Did you think?
               Do you care?

Love needs labor
     we knew.
But you, you RAN.
It didn't have to be.
I was there for you.
We could have
     grown TOGETHER.
But you, you hid.
You still hide.
I wish I could hate you,
     know why you were here
          and know why you are 

GONE.

I'm spared nothing.
I cry.
     Ache.
          Rage.

I miss you.
How much I miss you.
I see your face
     my spirit weeps.
I hear your voice
     my heart howls.
Until I die, I'm cursed to know
     of your face
          your voice
               your touch.
Finally acquainted with you
     and denied.
           REJECTED.

Only losing great happiness
     could bring this much pain.

I'm fine. And how are you?

(EPP, written May 1995)