I think I'd like to be remembered that I was all love.
That I was kindness and goodness and yes, maybe even mercy and forgiveness, too.
That I was kindness and goodness and yes, maybe even mercy and forgiveness, too.
And when you think of me, you know you were loved profoundly,
but for the life of me, I just could not have it in return.
Ah, not by you. No, there is no blame there.
You did all you could to show care. Everyone has their own fight. Battle to be won.
It is simply, it was not for me to have.
I was to tread on this earth, quite alone.
No one asked me, though.
If I was okay with this.
I was not.
But, try as I might, I could not change it.
The more I fought it, the more people buried themselves in my soul,
and then let me go.
And I felt it more profusely, intensely, acutely, each time;
That feeling of solitude.
It made everything in life too hard.
It made everything in life too hard.
Each sacrifice felt like a mountain to climb,
and I was tired.
It was too much.
It is too much for anyone.
No, for me. All evidence points to me.
And it embarrasses me to admit my fragility,
but shame doesn't make it go away.
Being quiet and making others proud or happy,
did not make it go away.
It always sat there under my surface.
My ineptitude, my trembling uncertainty and fear
of coming to grips with the reality
that no one really cared. That I am dust.
That I could disappear,
the world would keep spinning,
life would keep running,
people would keep loving,
and I would become the wind,
a memory
of someone who loved hard,
who dived deep,
who had a good kind heart,
and that was a sweet thing...
that might bring a sweet feeling.
that might feel like relief, maybe... I think.
-aq/lesnspired
