I am small

I cried on the way home from you. I'm empty, yet tears still are held in when I am with you. I step away and I begin to empty again.  There is so much more for me to discover about you.  But the wall between us is so high.  And I can't feel your affection through it, and I can't see how you feel about me.
It's at night that I think.  I look objectively at the day, and try to see life for what it really is, not just how I feel about it.  You hardly talked to me today.  I don't know how, but your life seems to wear you out.  I wonder if you want to know about me, how I am, or if you care about how fucked up my mind is.  I think, maybe tomorrow he will try to be with me, maybe make a special plan, or ask me about my childhood.  He doesn't.  I envision conversations in my head of me telling him these things.  I don't speak for fear of not being cared about. Then the tears.
I look at your silhouette. I want to touch you and feel your warmth, to rub my fingers over your thin frame.  I smile at your presence, blushing as I think of me staring at you.  You feel blank and cool towards me, fleeting from my touch.  I'd very much like to fall in love one day.  Whether it is with you I don't know; but if this is how love starts, I am very confused.
I need to tell you all these things.  But I am afraid I don't mean enough to you.  When I tell you these things you will surely leave me.  I don't know if I am ready for that.  But you aren't really here anyways, you won't see the aftermath because you don't see the mess thats right in front of you.
I've been convincing myself that my thoughts and insecurities are foolish.  I've rethought this, and I find that I am very much justified in my sadness over us. You'll say that you will call, you don't, you say you want to see me, you don't.  You don't come to me, I come to you with or without an invitation.
I wish I could be as close to you as your sadness or your exhaustion.  I don't think I will replace those things, or fit in between them.  I am small, but they are just too big.

Enabler

You are like a dog that is so happy to see me when I go into a room.  You wag your tail, whimper, and gladly let me pet you, but what you don't do is of great relevance.  You don't come find me, you don't come when I call your name, you are uninterested when I am laughing or crying.  Unless I come all the way to you, you are indifferent to my existence.

It is very unfortunate that I want to keep entering the room and giving you exactly what you want, to give you love that you do not reciprocate.  Pouring love on you like a waterfall, you like the river at the bottom, getting filled over and over, and me the waterfall giving and giving.  The question is who is to blame. 

I enable.  I give you no reason to pour into me, you will get what you want with no effort.  You take.  You find no reason to come find me when I call your name or when I cry.  

So what is it then?  Do I stop coming?  Will you miss me then?  Only time will tell.  This waterfall has run dry. 

Oh to wait on you.

Maybe I messed up. At this point I don't know. Too much time has passed for me to make a rational decision.  But, I realize that it is okay to mess it up, and it always has been.  I gave my emotions and words away.  At least now we are connected in some small way, a frail little string connects me to you.  That's all I have now, a scrawny thread with a message thats held in your hands.   I hope you can't feel my hands shaking, and I hope you can't see my cheeks change colors, and I hope you can't hear my heart racing.  If you did, you'd know how extremely strange I am, how nervous I get, and how much I have to learn.

You’re Beautiful by Phil Wickham

“I see You there hanging on a tree
You bled and then you died and then you rose again for me
Now You are sitting on Your heavenly throne
Soon we will be coming home
You’re beautiful”

~You’re Beautiful, Phil Wickham

Fogged Glass

There on the other side of the window
I'm no longer in control
All I can do is wait
You're there but you're much further than the day I met you
On the other side of the glass
Hands pressed tightly and fogged glass
Anxiously I still wait
You go about you're life
Three years have passed
I'll never know if I cross your mind
but you stay on mine

You look the same to me
Still so charming
Confident and happy
You may be a different person
But to me you are still the same
Still alive through it all
I've thought of you often through the years
It didn't matter if I was with someone else
I could never rid of the thought of us
Silly and strange but true
I'm waiting on a miracle

Your young memories are vivid
Especially the firsts
You were my first
The first to make me feel special
And to make me feel lovely
To say I am beautiful
And to care about me like a man should
Smart and confident
You looked at only me
Those blue eyes on mine
God you were handsome

Living out a song

You know those songs you hear that take you to a different time in your life.  You can close your eyes and see the exact place you were when the song connected what you heard and how you felt.  Somehow the words or the music is intertwined in your memories-- all tied together.  A few chords can trigger a tangent in your day.  Depending on which memory is evoked, it may be painful or happy or maybe you're not sure how you feel.

I have hundreds of these songs.  One in particular brings me back to summer nights in the Blue Ridge mountains.  Cool nights and soft breezes. My hair down and long, blowing in the wind.  It was just me looking up at the stars.  God, it was beautiful.  Some of my favorite moments include being alone, gazing at something beautiful and smiling.  Smiling because life can be so beautiful.  Smiling because I am overwhelmed at my luck in the world; that I am sitting and staring at something so amazing I couldn't fathom it's creation.  That night I was smiling at the trees, the stars, the sound of the wind, the the reflection of the moon on the lake, my toes on an old wooden bench, my long and cozy sweater. Makes me want to go back there and live it all again.  I can even feel my hope.  I had just finished my freshman year of college, so naive and innocent.  At that time I'd never been in a relationship with a boy, lived in an apartment, had a broken heart, or broke another's heart.  I remember thinking I could sit there forever staring at the creation of God.  I was young. I was happy.  I was living out a song.

Tattoo of a hopeless romantic.

Take a note. A note that was written to you on a first encounter with your future husband or possibly the last encounter before the phrase "I do". Tattoo it before your wedding day, and keep it hidden until you walk down the isle. He'll see it on you in his hand writing.  Wouldn't that be beautiful?  I'm saving notes.

I found this idea on tumblr.