It’s been a long time. Especially living in the Tenderloin District of San Francisco, especially living the lives I have lived and loving the loves I have given myself to, it just doesn’t happen every day, Or every month. Or ever.
And I miss it.
That moment when you see someone and your heart pumps so hard that it climbs into your throat, when all of the sudden all of the roles and restraints you have taught yourself go out the window while you still try to remain a gentleman and not gawk, not let on, and all you can do is hope, dearly, that you see them again.
Maybe then I might be stronger, maybe then I won’t think of all the shit she constantly puts up with, maybe… maybe then. But I doubt it.
Those were only the fewest of my thoughts as she walked by, and I though I recognized her – from somewhere in the past, a love, an infatuation, a mistake I made not only drove her away, but made her disappear without a word.
I think I’m unfortunately pretty good at that, because even before death was so close, I tested – and sometimes, almost always, it was too soon. I wrote, not all creepy but saying what I felt, and… and yeah, so I feel too much. Sometimes.
I saw her face, something sparked… I think… I think… and then I knew.
She was the person who handed me white lilies to lace on Bean’s ashes in Austin, she was one who I pushed into silence. She was one I pushed away because of me.
She couldn’t be here.
But then, I learned different, and I only hope that we may be friends, maybe. Again.
I can’t promise that I’m better now, but I have been through some shit, and I have learned a lot…
And then that makes me think. I’m fucking ME, take it or leave it. I will not push down my love for you, I will not call my passion “wrong”. I am me, and the me I am was brought into being by a lover… and then more.
There are a few that called me “too intense” – sometimes it didn’t work out, some just abandoned, and others had the grace to see the balance.
I am cursed with knowing who I am, and not being afraid to share it.