Brown Velvet box

Sometimes, in the dark hours, when the birds in the parking garage are silent, and all I can hear is the shushing of the tires of the homebound late shift workers, I think about you.

I try to remember the good times, the times in Technicolor, filled with heart and soul so deep all I could see was rich, brown velvet.
In a box,

that velvet climbed up the walls, caressed the bottom, contained my heart and closed it in, with cover tight. We had a thing that I am unable to name. Your face was my face, I was you and you were me…I think.

But when the chips were on the table, when it was time to show our cards, you folded. Folding, for me, was not an option. I played my hand, but it wasn’t big enough for you, wasn’t high enough, wasn’t dear enough, because you walked away from the table.

The ripple from your exit still nudges my boat.

Your hateful, negligent rhetoric and absence ripped great, bleeding wounds so deep inside me, that even now when I remember then, 
the scar tissue tingles faintly.

I was never able to let you go, because you see, you were careless enough to leave part of you with me. Funny that you didn’t even miss those parts. You were so full of yourself that those tiny, flickering flames you left me never had the power to make you turn, to look, to see how, as time progressed in my world, those flames became the light with which I traversed my world.

Now I am just I.

And you are living on another planet. I would not want you, or anyone to open that box for me, because you see, my heart was locked inside it. Lid tightly closed, It sits, in shock, unable to move beyond. I’ve tried. I don’t have the technology.

But I’ve learned to persevere. Which is different than to thrive, and in persevering I was able to release my self to those brilliant flames, that you chose to ignore for year upon years. 

So you may now have one of those flames, and I dearly pray you don’t do or say anything to snuff it out. This one needed you; she had always possessed the uncanny talent to get exactly what she wanted.

It’s not for me to say whether it’s right or wrong, it just is. But let me assure you, here and now, if you hurt or damage that flame in any way, I will come after you with a wrath you’ve never even imagined I possessed.

a stitch in time....

 it is so breathtakingly frightening when one wears one's heart on one's sleeve for everyone to see....and poke....and pick off pieces...like lint from the dryer...all we can do is remember the good times....the love.... and learn to duck....when someone reaches for a touch...or with gleaming intent in their eyes....rips the sleeve off. All you can do is sew it back on....and in the process... learn a new stitch.

Thwarted!! lol

so.................
my great and forward thinking plan to leave this gorgeous small town and move lock, stock and barrel (and approximately 100 large plastic bins) to the big city has run into a bit of a stumbling block:
the apartments where I applied will not have anything avaialble for at least 9-12 months. I'm on the waiting list. Truth? I feel like I've been tossed out the window.
but, as those who know me well, know that I'm pretty good at plan B. In fact, plan B is the outline of my life story.
question: do you really want to move to a loud, busy, very big city? Will S. would say, "Take my word for it, I've been to the big city, and this is not it."
Time now to relax, sew, think, and watch Lost tonight.
Back to the proverbial and literal drawing board.