So I write tonight, and someone asks me not to write a poem about you. Secretly I'm snickering inside and wondering what a fool this person is. How can I not write about you. I thought about God today. What is God if not a source of strength and inspiration, a savior that makes miracles happen and someone you can look to when nothing seems to make sense or everything falls apart.
Call me stupid, cheesy, cliched or whatever you want. But aren't you the closest thing to God I've ever known? God's fight, they get angry, they punish, they forgive and love. So why not you then?
You inspire me to live each moment, you give me strength to make the hard decisions; when you touch me or I hear your voice, the emotions I feel are like miracles- I may have a headache but it disappears, I may feel like I'm dying and then I feel alive, I may feel that no one can love me despite my mistakes and I find you! You get angry and you forgive and you definitely love me-So what are you dear, if not my God!
And I am just another mortal creature waiting for my Judgment Day. Because, when that day comes, I will either be sent to heaven or hell. Heaven will be the life we have together in which there will be both tough times and easy times, but we'll have each others' hands to hold and arms to crawl into. Hell will be you sleeping with some beautiful woman, drinking and smoking yourself to doom, with memories of what life could have been if I was different. Hell will also mean me being raped every night by some stranger who shall wonder where all the scars on my body have come from, because I made sure the night before I thought I was leaving this world for good that there were enough signs on my body to mark me as your property and only yours.
Here I go again with the pessimism. But do not worry, I am not hurting myself anymore, I know you'll have a miracle to protect me even if I do, so there is no point in even trying. I think what provokes me the most is the loneliness. I read several suicide attempt stories, the real ones, not just American teens who couldn't deal with the 'plastic life'; stories of loss of child by a parent or a loved one. It is guilt to quite an extent, but I fully understand that I cannot take it back. What I feel is that my death will be just as beautiful as my life with you because I will truly get to live the moments again before my brain shuts down. And every time what stops me is the 'what if'. Every time I think that if we get back together life could be so beautiful and different, challenging, but something to be cherished forever.
Other guys don't interest me, in fact most of the times I am repulsed by complements (unless they are from my boss about my work). I have become cynical about what guys want, I guess I always knew that, but I think I've understood that in order to get the power I want, I do not have to give them what they want so that I can control them later on. I think I have understood that simplicity and honesty is extremely important and to put a smile on someone's face or being successful at work is much more satisfying than winning mind games. Off course, seductive games played on my husband do not fall into this category (wink wink).
So have I written enough? Or do you want to know more? Maybe after some more emotions overwhelm me...
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