Tag: Losing Touch

Losing Touch

To You–

I use “you” as a pronoun for more than one person though each is special.  Each of my yous makes my heart beat in another key.  Some keys aren’t as common now.  Some haven’t played in years.  For those yous, the ones I’ve lost touch with,  this is my love letter to you.  This is how I remind you that even in the silence, I am rooting for you.  The void between us is filled with well wishes from me to you.

Mysterious forces make magic of some meetings. The way your eyes made gold circles around your pupils in the sunlight transfixed me. Some people peel away everything life coached me to acquire.  Some people dissolve time with their words.  You encompass both forces of nature.   My armored manners fell to silly sentiments when I met you.  We were a pair of poorly behaved third-graders: all jokes and joy.  Words spilled with the ease of decades around someone I’d known for minutes.  

Rapid closeness triggers our walls.  Trust hasn’t been established and suddenly, we both feel the resistance of life around us.  We saw each other left, were reminded in little intermissions that we each had lives before each other.  Connection motivates people to overpromise, but we were both promised to so many other things.  Our time never felt like ours.

I don’t want my “what’s up” to trespass on your space.  If this is more bind than connection, let the silence untether you. I know friendships go both ways, but do I dare disturb your peace? Your privacy? I interpret your unanswered texts as stop signs.  I cannot chase your absence without betraying myself.  Life itself is an interruption.  People create the time for things they value amidst the chaos.   I’ve reminded you how my time is available for you, my calendar is an open book for you.  But even open books close, collect dust, flip through months of marked engagements.

I hear your name in cities neither one of us sleeps in.  I miss you.  Without wish or agenda, I treasure your existence.  I hope life is gentle with you on the days I don’t hear about.  I hope the sun still lights gold halos around your pupils and you’re laughing loud these days.  I hope life conspires to reunite us, but if she doesn’t, if this friendship was meant to be momentary, I’m glad I met you.  When the concrete chants your name or I see your favorite movie, only joy arises.  We lost touch but are always linked.

Yours,

Marisa