Bound

Here I stay incapable of moving, incapable of leaving.
Incapable of having my own thoughts and incapable of feeling what you won’t allow allow me to feel.
I am bound to you through chains forged from denial and self-benevolence.
Bound to you through ties spun of insecurity and cowardice.
Bound to you with committed acts contrived of iniquities and malice.
I cannot break free and I cannot say with all honesty that I want to be free.
I know not what life has for me now that I’ve dedicated what life I had to you.
I’ve separated my needs and wants from that of your desires.
I’ve poured myself willingly into your glass to drink from and have asked nothing in return.
I am bound to the silence in which my voice of regret echoes.
I am bound to this existence because it is here where I have purpose.
I am bound to misery for she is my only company and I am bound to suffer for it is the price of your love.

How Can You Truly Love….

How can you love someone that you truly do not know?

I ask you this because the love you have for me is bewildering.

You say you love me and I first doubted the words you would speak.

I had heard those words spoken by others but with no sentiments attached.

You continued to say them to me in spite of my affliction towards them and you.

I fought so hard to not let your words penetrate my heart and my soul.

I fought so hard to not believe or feel the tenderness in your actions.

How could you love me when you didn’t know me?

You had no idea as to the child I was or the man I had become.

You were clueless as to the dire childhood I had endured.

You were blind to the callus man that I had evolved into.

I desperately tried to ward off your attempts at knowing who I was.

I did this for the sake of you and for the sake of sparrng you.

It is a fool’s errand to attempt to love one uncapable of being loved.

Uncapable of returning the love that one so pure can afford.

But you continued to tell me both night and day.

And when your words were not enough, your actions spoke louder.

You reached into my chest and held my heart in your hands.

You spoke into my ear and let your voice reverberate in my brain.

You pulled me close and let your essence soak into my skin.

You did what you could to prove your love was real.

But still I ask how can you love someone you do not truly know?

Maybe it is I who does not truly know myself.

Maybe you have seen me for the man I hoped I could be.

The man I feared I could never achieve being.

A man capable of love and of being loved.

But how can I love you if I do not know myself?

How can I love love you if I cant love who I am?

You are far more deserving than to have this weight to bare.

You are what love would be if it took form on earth.

How can I love you if I truly do not know who I am?

I can only hope to know who I am by seeing myself through your eyes.

Through your eyes I will find the man I want to be and the one you need.

The man you love will be the man I will become.

Thank you for loving the man I never knew and the one you’ve grown to know.

Silouhette

He sat there somberly, watching her silhouette grow fainter as she walked away. He wasn’t quite sure what she was thinking or feeling. He was completely unaware as to the expression on her face as she turned and walked on.

Perhaps she did it intentionally, not glancing back that is. Maybe as to spare his heart from the questions of “What if”, or maybe the anguish of a truly knowing. Or maybe she did not want him to ever know. Knowing this was easier for her than he believed. Either way, he was thankful she spared him in such a way.

She would, in this way, remain forever his. As the immortal embrace of Romeo and his Juliet. He would pay tribute to her with no end. Flecks of her unblemished porcelain skin would line the pages he would lay words to. Strands of her hair would be the pen he would clutch as the same words coursed feverishly through his hand. The blood that flowed through his veins that carried her to his heart and to his existence would be the ink that would eternally immortalized her.

She would always continue to be his, along with the memories, as long as his lungs drew breathe. He could never give his muse up. He would more so give up his life than to give up the singular most greatest and prolific love and inspiration of his life. He looked up and noticed her silhouette had completely faded by now.

He felt his eyes well with tears of anguish and tournament, and then an uncontrollable laughter erupted from within. He was utterly baffled as to where this was originating from. He had just witnessed his everything disappear before his very eyes. He realized then the laughter was coming from the sentiments of the joys of knowing her. The tranquility he felt of being in her arms. The serenity and ease his mind felt as he counted each of her lashes as she slept. The passion of tracing her curves and dedicating them to memory, to later explore them again and again, as if finding something new each time. The creativity that flowed through his hands as he sat and gazed upon her beauty and the words that came to be, almost as lovely as her. The love that so many strive for and so many more perish without knowing, he had been fortunate enough to have experienced.

All though shorter than the dawn, it was never bitter and he knew then he had become more of a man and a better one for it. He picked up his journal and tucked it under his arm, and the laughter slipped away between sighs, and wiping the tears from his cheeks, he began to walk away slowly. Gazing down the path they had many times strolled hand in hand, he put his lips together and began to whistle a familiar melody. It was the same melody that had started it all, and with that he became a silhouette that soon came to fade.