my careless contagion

" How long will I write like this?" I hear myself ask again. The answer comes as surely as the sun rises: "As long as an ember of her still burns in my heart." And so I write, though no one listens or understands. All these things about her I felt deeply and often for the first time. It went beyond any native desire or feeling I've ever held. It was a gift from somewhere else; it didn't come from me. And I gave these words to the world because I didn't know what else to do. N one of this is hyperbole. This is how I see her. This is how I feel. It felt like a gift that I saw what she is: her mind, her heart, her soul. (Besides all of that, she is ridiculously pretty.) Some may wonder what the big deal is, but they didn't see her to the depth I did. No human being has moved me like she did and continues to. I can't help but write about her. If anyone is asking if she is truly that special, yes, she is that special . The love she shows is beyond wor...

I've had to do a thousand hard things in my life. By far, the hardest has been letting you go. Something ancient and new and lovely and perfect in me found something ancient and new and lovely and perfect in you. Letting you go meant leaving those things behind because they got lost in you somewhere, and I couldn't go back to find them. So today, walking away, I'm far less new, far less lovely, and so far from perfect. Tomorrow will surely find me the same. Trying to trace the steps of our last dance, our last time together, and our last conversations yields no clues. I'll never know what happened. All I know is I got so desperate and so scared because you knew what you knew and then I was no longer in the know. I was on the outside looking in like I've always been. While I spent time with you, looked as deeply as I could into your eyes, and almost made my home in you, I still didn't know you. I saw a sliver of your beauty, and I was awestruck. Then you we...