I wonder when I'll die? I could be dying all along. I could be floating to
death like a feather departed from its maker. It does not die until it has hit
the ground. I was living until my innocence left me. What happens when the
amount of time spent living is exceeded by the years spent dying? Is that when
I will expire? Or, is someone sent to save me? I have been waiting for some
time now, and I'm hard pressed to believe they are coming indeed. I've only a
few years remaining before my time overlaps. If I continue breathing, it would
surely be dying inhaled, and death exhaled.

Maybe we are all feathers? Some have lived beautiful on swans, but dying is a
short trip to drowning death. Some are on the wings of eagles, soaring
sorrowfully their inevitable extinction, and grand idolization. Their feathers
fall a beautiful back and forth, and are sometimes prolonged with gusts of wind
and life. Some are trapped on flightless birds. How sad a the life of
a feather that never soars in the sky... their dying is short, and death comes
beneath the feet of predators.

They (we) all eventually sink, and only memories of their (our) fantastic falls remain.

As a feather floats upon the wind
and fancies itself endless,
I soar with her flight.
She romances the evening sun
and pleads for another day of life.
I relish in her fight.

Resolution

I'm a little achy in the heart today. It's a bizarre feeling, and rather difficult to put into words properly. The best way to say is, I have a particularly dreadful sort of longing right now. Longing because, obviously, there is something I desire which I do not presently posess. Dreadful, because it's not something I'm quite comfortable desiring.

Last night, I made a... resolution, I guess (I had trouble determining what word would best fit here). I've said many times that I'll never marry again. I believe this determination, although many others do not. Here is why I believe marriage fails. We all know people who marry, and stay together forever. But, what percentage are they of those couples who marry? I mean, 5% maybe of the married couples I know/knew are still together. Something so fragile as love is doomed to failure when the expectation and pressure of "forever" is place on it's very existence. It must breathe every moment with the understanding that if this fails, dreams are crushed. How can anything possibly survive with that kind of pressure?! Life is fleeting, and that is why it is precious. Love is fleeting, and should also be cherished as such. Two people get together and decide that they have the rest of their lives to appreciate one another, so appreciation ends. I'm certain someone else has thought this before, but I'm just now thinking it, I guess. Or, I've been thinking it, and I'm only just now able to put in into words that matter.

So, my resolution... I'll never put any pressure, or expiration date for that matter on my current fling (or any future for that matter). I don't think that it is a fling exactly, but it is fun and exciting. No pressure... no expecation, no guilt, and no disappointment. I'm hoping that's possible for some time to come, because as soon as it becomes impossible is when one or the other will split. He's not my boyfriend. He's more of a lover in every sense of the word, not just physically. It's romantic, passionate, and important. So, he and I end when we end. I don't believe in forever anymore anyway. Everything dies, and why should romantic love be any different?

Anyway, why is my heart achy? I don't rightly know. Maybe because I left him with a kiss as goodbye this morning while he lay very cozy still... maybe because I have nightmares when I sleep alone... maybe because I have deeper feeling for him that I would not define as love. I believe I've stumbled upon some other sort of affection. I don't quite know its definition. I know that it's different, and it's probably because I'm different. I'm exploring it, and just trying to be happy. I'm trying not to lose me amongst all the other people in the world. It seems easy to do. I've never considered myself someone of weak character, but still, I lose me. I'm trying to keep me close.

He picked me up
with ease.
He said he meant
no harm.

He lied.

Love sick and
diseased,
I'm romanced
and disarmed.

Locked inside.

My affections
pleaded,
and melted,
with his love charm.

And I died.

I'm fairly certain, that I can never really be with someone else without giving up a piece of me. I really don't want to give up any of me. I'm selfish. I want all of me to be here; it's not fair that I should have to compromise me. Life is stupid.

Love is even stupider. The stupidest part is that I need it. I long for it as flowers yearn for spring showers and the coming warm sun. Ceasing to breathe seems easier.

I'm living with half a heart right now anyway. What's the problem with giving up a bit of me so I can have a whole heart? I'm not so sure it would be in good hands. I'm scared for its treatment. I'm scared for the half of heart I have hiding in the night stand. If I put it back in my chest, it could be stolen. If I carry it, dropping it is inevitable. I could lend it to someone, but would they return it? And, what state would it be in? I'm scared for it.

I'm just straight up scared.

I have decided... I have a need to make other people happy. It makes me feel good to please others. I have seen this as a flaw in the past. I've seen it as something I need to change. Maybe I don't? Maybe, it's part of my character. Maybe it's something other people have to accept. Maybe it's something I have to accept..?

As I age, there are so many things about me that could be better... but, I can never be perfect, right? So, I have to stop trying to change the things that really won't have an affect on life. I have to live with them.

I'm not perfect. I'm flawed... so very flawed.

I'll settle for perfectly flawed.

Driving home tonight I was able to drive westward... into the sunset. The sky was clear, apart from a few clouds. They seemed to gather around the retreating day. Maybe they are clinging to its warmth? It's partly the reason I watch. I love soaking in those last few warm rays while the goosebumps overtake me.

Shadows drift off sunset's fringe
hopeful for a repeat of amber glory.
Fiery cast honor in dusk's binge
woefully reciting the day's story.

Sun does not see his evening,
only morning.
but Moon basks in the beauty
of Sun's duty.