But Teacher, I Am Trying (My Best)

This is from the heart, of course.
I swear that all of this is true and that all of this is unfiltered.
I have to do this, by the way.
I have to let this out, otherwise, emotions can spoil and my thoughts can turn against me.

I say all of this without thinking, as if to open the gates and let my thoughts run like hungry dogs who’ve been pent up for way too long.
And same as the dogs, I need to eat too.

I say this to soften the edges and dull the sharp words that cut us both.
And more –

I do this because I know that open wounds are open wounds and that the pains from what cut us can distract us from the fact that you and I can heal together.
(if we choose)

I do this with hopes to create a truce.
Or like I was told a long time ago:
Build bridges. Not walls.
This sounds like the right idea to me.

Also, and just so you know, I do this because I want to believe. I want to have hope.
I want to see, think, feel and touch things with a softer hand. But more, I want to retrieve the value of something so great, regardless of my past or the fights that broke out and caused me to be bitter.

It would be dishonest to say that I have never strayed, nor can I say that I have never been crooked before or out of line.
Then again, we all have our stories and our reasons.

I suppose it is our own momentum that causes us to hit a wall or to land somewhere that would otherwise be undesirable.

 Self-destruction is far more common than we think.
Or have you noticed this as well?

It is too late now to look back or to go back to where we were or to rewind and undo what we have already done.
All else is just a new opportunity to change or to further ruin what we had and be equally sad that once more, we ruined something beautiful by behaving so ugly.

Nothing about you is ugly, by the way.
Absolutely, nothing.
You are what dreams are made of.
And I question if you know this or has the world blinded you in such a way that you only see what you were told.
Do you even know who you are?
Do you notice how the room changes, just because you walked through the door?
I’ve noticed this.
In fact, I’ve told you about this before, consistently, and for the record, I know about my faults but one of my strengths is that I have always been able to notice the way you look or smile.

And yes, I can sit here and apologize or make amends for the exact nature of my wrongs.
I can do this.
I can correct myself.
I can change, but in the end, feelings are feelings, hearts are hearts, life is life, and somehow, we find ourselves at the crossroads of impasse and defeat.

 I don’t know which is better.
Is it better to lose or to be at an impasse?

There is no point in arguing anymore and no reason to fight or scream or throw a dish against the wall or to break something out of anger.
This is a waste of our potential energy, which could help us grow or change, as opposed to the strength it takes to drain us and keep hate alive.

It is not beyond me to lose control and nor is it beyond you to be imperfect as well.
Come to think of it, we all lose our minds at some point.
I lost mind decades ago but it turns out, maybe I never needed it to begin with.
My mind, that is because I realize that most f my biggest troubles are thought based. Or in other words, I think too much,

But either way –

The tightest grips of our sanity is enough to make anyone insane. Yet, how sane is it to believe in unseeable things or to have faith in someone or something, especially when life itself repeatedly shows reasons to prove that disbelief is easier than the strength it takes to believe.

I still believe though.
I believe in beauty and the power of hope.
And yes. I have hope.
I believe in the ability of fate and destiny. I believe that all roads have brought me to where I am now.

I believe there is a reason for everything and that it only stands to reason, at least to me; there is a reason why we fight or dance or play a game of checkers in the house on a rainy day.

I have never been good at those things, board games, checkers, or chess.
And yet, I have found myself in different stalemates and yes, I have been put in check several times and I’ve been mated in only a few moves later.
And this was me –
Foolish as ever.
But hey, this is life.

I am a side-sleeper and sleeping by myself while facing the iniquity of being alone, and thus, the iniquities I find are actually fair and impartial because life comes down to a simple math.

If this, then that.
if that, then this.
Our math has got to improve.
Either that, or we have to stop confusing opinions and suspicions as facts, which we add and account for, regardless of whether that are fact or not.

We have to stop.
Really, we do.

And sometimes, our math is correct. I’ll give you that.
But our math is often incorrect or the formulas we apply are inaccurate—and in other ways, I see how life can be like those old questions we used to get in math class, back in grade school.

Whereas “if the love of your life was facing east on a train and you were facing west on an opposite train, what are the odds that you two would notice each other when your trains pass each other a thousand miles per hour?”

See?
I say this because I see love or the chances of us passing as a similar rarity.

 Sometimes, I watch the moonlight slip between the cracks in the blinds that cover my window.
I think about the meaningfulness of bluish light and how the moonbeams seep in to change the mood in my bedroom.
Even still, without you . . .
I remember how the streetlamps look when they brighten the side of your face.
It’s beautiful, by the way

I think about the beautiful silhouette of a woman lying curled on her side, sheets around her, pillow beneath her face, and the moonlight shining along her details in such a way that to me, this is more than sex and more than sexy.
I know . . .

I have ignored the details of far too much and for way too long. I have overlooked the simplest most beautiful details, which are plentiful and yet, for some reason, our minds digress and move in directions that would otherwise do us a disservice.

I want to stop this, but in fairness; I am aware that stopping this is like stopping the eastbound train while I am westbound and moving a thousand miles per hour.

It is January now and we have already passed the midway point and we are more than halfway through the month, which means February will be here shortly.
Soon enough March will come, then April, and essentially, the month of May will be here before we know it.

And next it’s June and just like that, the beaches will be warm again. This means the sands will thaw from their tired winter expressions of those who stood at the shore during winter, wishing for summer, and telling their sins to the sea.

I have done this. In fact, and I am sure you know this.
The beach is my Sanctuary and the waves, the seagulls, the wind and the tides are my priests who hear my confession and absolve me of my sins.

I have to say this:
Time moves far too fast.

I know it.
And so do you.

And rest assured that when the month of May comes, you and I can think about how we spent the last few months. Or we can think about how time slipped by or through our fingers.
I will think about the unfair process of laying on my side, alone, and thinking about how the moonlight adds to the mood of your perfect silhouette.

I will think of how we take all too much for granted and I will recognize the people who have died while fighting to live and yet, there are those who live and plead to die.
And with all my heart: I don;t want to be this way.

And here’s a little ode to a man from my youth.
I remember an old friend who contracted a terrible virus. He told me that it took him learning that he was going to die to teach him what it means to live.

I understand this now but I am unclear if I understood this as well, back when he told me this.
Perhaps I was too young to understand what he meant at the time.
Maybe I was only a child in comparison to now.

I am often too childish to realize that life does not always go according to plan.

I get this . . .
. . . I also get that tantrums do not change outcomes and tantrums have a way of making our outcomes even worse, —especially when we grow older because as we grow older, being a baby about bullshit becomes less-acceptable.

I have no time for the childish games we play.
Is this it?
Is that it?
Am I even close?
Or how about this?
Is this better?
Or wait, am I too far from your treasures to touch gold or has your diamonds chosen not to shine for me anymore

I have come to find that I am where I am and yes, this is a result of where I have been.
Of course .  . .

But more, I am the sum of my choices which have added to this —me, alone, and facing the emptiness of my bed while laying on my side and dreaming of someone beautiful (or namely you) facing me with the softest eyes I have ever seen.
Soft.
Yes, you are soft.
You sweet like honey or tasty, like the nectar from a flower that hummingbirds hover above for hours, until they get their fill.

However, I think it is important for me to say that I can assure you of this now, —I will never be too full or full enough that I do not want more of you.

I will never grow tired of what it feels like to have my legs intertwined with yours.
I will never take another second for granted.
Never . . .
And if the Gods of Love decide to let me at you, or we can call ourselves “in love” then I swear; nothing will ever be confused or go unspoken.

I never realized how starved I am
or hungry for you.
I never realized how valuable it is to feel someone’s warmth and affection.
But these are the realizations that come when we take too much for granted.

I can understand the different degrees of our separation or how you are where you are and I am where I am.
(for now)

I can understand the resentments and the fights which happened and the things I said and what took place afterwards, which, of course; I regret.
But sometimes, and I say this regretfully, things fall apart and two people who became one, separate and become alone again. 

Life has a way of unfolding and time has a way of teaching us lessons. This is a fact, even if we choose not to learn the first time.

It’s funny . . .
I’m not dying. At least, not in a literal sense.
But I understand why my old friend Kenny told me to pay attention to life because we often have to die (a little) to understand what it means to live.

I will leave you with this
My love is no different from the wind, it blows and moves and finds its way, somehow, or so I hope.
My love is eager and more, my love has always been willing to explore or to travel beyond the boundaries of my dreams because to me; my love is a dream that I have while laying on my side because for now, my love is alone, that is, until we come home
(together)

Therefore, my love is waiting
and thus I will always be waiting,
until of course
I see you in the moonlight
that beams from the window
in my bedroom
so I can look at you
And watch how your shadows
greet the wall.

Nothing in the world is more beautiful than this
the love of your life
sleeping on their side
and facing your side of the bed.
Their face pressed in the pillow,
peacefully resting
happily, and in my case,
she will be you and you will be dreaming too,

hopefully of me