9.2007.

Careful and careless, like the way in which I washed the anteater’s shirt, wanting only to clean away the dirt, not taking into consideration the fragile state of the design that adorned its dingy whiteness, and because of it, the picture is fading away.

 

Careless, was I, to dive deeper and deeper into a love that had every chance of surviving but also every chance of letting me down completely.  I was your first love from the start, it was innocent and true in every way.  It was a type of love that lasts forever, but somehow, has left me wanting.  If I had known, from the beginning, you would turn away, I wonder if I would still stay.  I wonder if I thought it was worth it, this pain.

 

But apart from the pain, still remains…the memories.  The countless hours of joy and true and complete happiness.  The laughter and the content sighs.  The endless bear hugs…the raw ecstasy of making love.  All of this and more.

 

But something tells me, it was all worth it because if it wasn’t, then I don’t think I’d be missing it this much, wanting it so much.  My heart becomes a swell as big as the ocean when it is reminded of its love for you.  And my chest begins to slip into a frenzied state, skeptical of its ability to keep my heart in its place.

 

Careful.  I was so careful to treat you right and give you everything you needed.

 

Careful and carelessly, did I give you away.

 

And now, I see you down the shore.  Moving away farther from me.

 

And I look up to the sky and greet the star, the star I wished upon to give you to me.

 

But alone I have found my soul in this journey.

 

And my heart, no longer swelling, caves into dejection because of the rejection it experienced first hand.

 

I offered you my heart and for a while, you took it into your hands, placed it in your pocket for safekeeping.  But then, you began to hand it back, and I backed away quickly; I refused to understand.

 

And my heart lay splattered upon the floor.  You didn’t want it anymore.

 

And, funny, because…now I think, neither do I.

 

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So, what do you do with a displaced love?  A love neither used, nor disowned.  Do you bury it?  Keep it under lock and key?  And if you bury it, do you commit to memory where you buried it, so that if you need it in the future you can dig it up again?  If you keep it locked, do you keep in mind where you placed the key?  Or do you send it out into the ocean, floating about as sharks and shrimp alike wait for their feed?  Any moment now, if you listen, you can hear the ocean bleed.

 

But I guess it was just too much a risk for you to keep me…

 

So I’ve been thrown back into the ocean, into the rocks that puncture the sea…it is dark and cold and lonely.  I hear your reason but a part of me will always want to ask, why.  Why…am I here again?  Because I know I shouldn’t be.  But I have rejoined the millions out there feeling like we should be searching for something but we end up with nothing, and so we wait it out…we wait it out for someone to bring us back to shore.

 

I guess what bothers me most is that you say you’d be completely fine if you lost me.  Makes me wonder what I’m worth to you.  How much of that love of yours was really invested in our relationship.  Because if I lost you, I’d be entirely devastated, but you would say, “C’est la vie.”  I guess once again the differences between us have come to overpower our bond, and I am likely to succumb to your wishes, once again.  It’s time to desist.

 

But I think that you should know, you can study the ocean for centuries, but you will never solve every puzzle, will not unlock every mystery.  Will not find the reason to every question, ‘why’.  And all the fish end up putting out the same, everyone of them will have some flaw you just can’t look past, everyone of them will start to drive you crazy after a while.  That might even be bigger, meaner…more vicious, or perhaps even more of a pansie than me.

 

I guess I’ll remain that onerous girl, serving more as a barnacle than an adornment to your skin.  And I guess I’ll accept there’s no moving up that ladder of yours I’ve been denied to climb.  But I guess I shouldn’t sit around and wait, but that seems to be what we barnacles do.  And I’ll try to be strong and rigid and tough til that next whale comes riding through.  Then, I’ll attach so swift and so fast…because you never really wanted me anyway.

 

Careful were you not to break my heart.  But carelessly, you did.