"and all i do is miss you and the way we used to be
all do is keep the beat and bad company
all i do is kiss you through the bars of a rhyme
julie, i'd do the stars with you any time."
impossible love seems to be a theme of this lifetime, for me. it never used to be this way, or perhaps the impossible aspects of love just hid themselves better, tricked me in the glow of stars and breathless kisses. i used to think it was all just a timing thing, love that came around too early, or too late. i know that i have experienced both scenarios, and neither seem to end well, bits and pieces of what they were (or could have been) lingering in the air like the residue of a half-smoked cigarette still smoldering on the edge of the second to the last step, where i was still sitting, watching you walk away.
i've been told that it is fear of being happy that attracts me to loves that i can never truly have. but, i'd argue that simplisitc explanation, because in those still and silent moments when it is just me and my most vulnerable of truths i do want to be happy, and i do want to be loved. i think it is a deeper thing than fear, and perhaps it is the lessons i learned as a young girl that have skewed love for me; back when i was feeling love for the first time, and the definitions i took from those initial pulses and misfires, they must have had their effect on me. the best of kisses became something stolen back then, passion as a confession of something we were not supposed to want, and love that was interlaced with words like longing and what if and wait. when i think on it, not much has changed, not in terms of love.
i'm not sure why i ever accepted a love that had timing issues, or why i chose to believe that if i waited long enough it would be mine. all that unrequited want and need is hypnotic and inebriating, but no matter how sweet the taste or it - it is poisonous. it slowly destroys who you are. loneliness, in that kind of scenario, cracks and breaks off pieces of your hope, your self regard, and your ability to really live. the outcome is a half-lived life because there is always a part of you waiting for the other person to arrive, to be beside you, to hit the start button to start your real life; the one you have waited for, for so long.
but, what if it never comes? what if it comes some twenty years late? what if, in the process, you forget how to do anything but be in love with something, or someone, you may never be able to have?
"i cant do the talk like they talk on tv
and i cant do a love song like the way its meant to be
i cant do everything but id do anything for you
i cant do anything except be in love with you."
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