i never left you for a banjo

i think you still remember me as a girl who taught you to drive, and i know i remember you as the boy who helped me learn to trust. i know we still close our eyes and see the kids we were, driving down the coast every other day because we had nothing else to do. back then they all knew us for what we showed them, and you knew how to fit in with anyone and everyone. they all loved you, and as you held my hand i felt bold and brave, and almost healed. you would light my cigarette and laugh at how fast i smoked, kiss my lips and tell me i was beautiful. we were beautiful together.

and i remember that night, twisting up the road in all that fog, you telling me to pull over to the side of the road. i turned to face you and the tears fell, as you half-whispered to me things that night that no one else knew. i took your hands in mine, felt how much you were shaking. and, i showed you my scars then. we traded the stories and let each other breathe them in, and we held each other until we were stronger. i think we sat there for hours, together.

and later, sitting at your extended family's house, we smiled at each other and i knew right then that i loved you with every piece of who i was. yeah, i remember it, of course i do; how could you possibly think i'd forget? but, we were kids, and we have grown. i have learned to breathe and be brave all on my own now, even though i do miss you; i will always miss you.

but, these new things you see, i wonder if it is really me, or just a memory of who i used to be. have i just become a symbol of the things you feel you may have lost? because sometimes the past can be seen that way, a fading black and white image of what came before; and that less then vivid picture can often seem so much better than what is now. she was right, though, when she wrote me that i am tired of being a symbol, and that i just want to be seen as me. once upon a time you saw me as me, more than anyone ever had before. but, i wonder if the only me you see now is that once upon a time me. i'm guilty of it, too. i know i see you as that boy from before, the one that was near impossible to let go of. and perhaps that is the point of this all, to recognize what we meant to each other and say goodbye.

"i'm trying not to move

it's just your ghost

passing through

i said i'm trying not to move

it's just your ghost passing through

it's just your ghost

passing through

and now

i'm quite sure

there's a light in your platoon

i never seen a light move

like yours

can do to me

so now i'm wishing

for my best impression

of my best angie dickinson

but now i've got to worry

cause boy you still look pretty

to me

but i've got a place to go

i've got a ticket to your late show

and now i'm worrying cause even still

you sure are pretty

when you're putting the damage on."

putting the damage on ~ tori amos