Its not the love that I lost so much as the love that I miss. Its not the same thing to me.
I found myself reminscing about past connections that were lovely in its time. Now, faded. I’m not just talking about romance; I’m talking about all the different and deep connections that we share in varying degrees, with different people. I’m talking about when trust was a beautiful beginning, a glue and a comfort. I’m talking about when you believed in what you felt for another person and that belief bonded you together and carried you through. I’m reminiscing, I know. Memories can be a slippery slope and even more precarious when you are filled with longing. I try not to do this but, sometimes I give in. At times, giving in can be cleansing. So, I put my words on a faux page, with false hopes and empty desires fulfilling the reality of anxiety while I clamor to be heard. Its the way of our new world.
Its not a loss of love. I’ll always have love in one form or the other. Its the missing that gets to me. It feels empty. I’m not empty–it just feels that way. Another trick of the heart/mind. I suppose its like the loss of a limb. What was once there you think still exists. It doesn’t. In time, I will realize that its just a feeling. A reminder of what once was–no more and no less.