Thursday, August 13, 2009

i can see you

I see you driving in cars. I watch as you walk down the street. I observe you paying for a coffee before leaving. You're always leaving. Always walking away from me.
Parts of you flicker across stranger's faces, making me look twice and sometimes gasp internally. Often, when I look the second time, you are gone. In the infinitesimal amount of time that it takes to look again you have been whisked away.
You don't ever seem to recognize me. You never take another look. You callously keep driving some other person's car oblivious to the fact that I am begging you to turn around and come back for me. How can you not notice me? How do you not see me?
I am at once both so elated to see that you still exist and crushed that you exist without me. You don't seem to notice that I pine for you with every breath I take and every instance that I see you, I am trying to convey to you my need to have you back.
These strangers, whose bodies you inhabit momentarily, may think I am insane, staring at them with such desire and meaning. They may think they have something stuck in their teeth, an eyelash on their cheek or have unknowingly upset me with a gesture or an overheard conversation.
But it's not them. It's you. You who have broken me. You gave me something so completely wonderful. Something that made life worth living. Something that belonged to me. And then, you took it away.
Now as I become the creepy chick who unblinkingly gawks at the guy who wears your nose on his face, looking for some recognition from you, I sometimes wonder if it was a dream. A wonderful and melancholy dream.
I miss you, my love. Oh, how I miss you.

9 comments:

AndreaRenee said...

Isn't it crazy how this happens?? I can't tell you how many times I've seen someone who looks exactly like Matt driving... Glad I'm not the only creepy chick. ((((BIG HUGS))))) XOXO

Angie said...

so true.

Mrs. Spit said...

I'm sorry. There are times I see children the age my son would have been, and it literally takes my breath away, it leaves me gasping.

I can only imagine how much this hurts. I'm sorry.

nomi said...

I can only imagine how hard this must be for you. I wish I could say something other than "I'm sorry" that you have to have days like this, and try to send you a big computer ((((hug)))

Lynn said...

So very true...you say it so well. Sending some happy thoughts your way...

Pamela said...

This moved me. Thinking of you today...

woolies said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
woolies said...

I know this feeling. At first I didn't know who Jeff was, but then I read your profile...and I think I may have read your blog once, long time ago.
Impossibly painful.

Colleen said...

I'm so sorry - I understand (somewhat) how painful this can be.

When I was 15 my brother died, and there was a crossing guard at my high school who looked *just* like David...so there he was every morning, my friendly crossing guard/brother. I never stared at him too hard because I didn't want to see the descrepancies, but it just gave me a little bit of peace to know (think) that he was nearby and doing something normal. After a while I admitted to myself that it wasn't really him, but for a while that's all I needed to get me through that rough period of mourning. I promise you that while it's never something you get over, it does get better with time. *many, many hugs to you!*