Dear Shirty McShirty,

Was it only yesterday that I met you? Is it a dream that I once fancied fantasies of becoming the perfect, serene and infinitely organized counterpart to your beautiful madness? No. It wasn’t just yesterday. It was more than a year ago. Funny thing, time.

It was, however, just yesterday morning lying next to your blanketed warm body that I had a dream of a man with a handsome face and a gentle light in his eyes. I was at a garden party, chatting with an old friend who I meet only in dreams now. The handsome, gentle-eyed man smiled at me and I was hopeful, in a dreamy way, that such a man could exist. I read into his face integrity, honesty, loyalty, a capacity for love.

Seeing that I was engaged in conversation, he turned away, not wanting to interrupt. It was then that I saw he was not what he seemed. On the back of his neck was etched a serial number. That neck was old, weathered, and destroyed by time and something else I could not name. The hair was thinned and tired. The clothes were not so polished and unassuming as they were from the front. They were worn, careless, and dirty.

I was just pointing this man out to my friend when I stopped, realizing his face did not reveal the truth. I stared, wondering how this was possible, that his front was so very different from his retreating back. My friend turned to look and I said, “Never mind. It’s not who I thought it was.”

When I woke you asked me with a smile if I slept well, and I told you about the dream but I didn’t have the heart to tell you that you were that guy. I think you knew anyway, and didn’t have the heart to tell me you knew. So now we both know and neither of us are telling. The trajectory of lives can shift and veer significantly in the passage of a year. Truths are often revealed in the soft light of morning.

I hope your day is as flawed and beautiful as you are,

Velvet Verbosity

Image from http://www.jetcityorange.com/barcodes/tattoos/tattoo_31.html

/ Digg this /
Stumble this