Eleven years holds miles of smiles, eyes over flowing with salt flavored tears, words, glances, touches.
I wonder in the silence and in the hurt if I would have forfeited it all? The joys, the heart swollen from love, to spare the pain? Would I have absorbed more of it? Allowing more love to swell? Scrambling to grasp every morsel of joy and hold it tight? Hoping that all the good would see me through all the bad?
Eleven years ago, I innocently, naively, believed that nothing but good lay before us.
I feel as though the last thread of innocence has been cut, lost forever.
When exhausted, bated breath means the promise of new life, but to give life means death, how to reconcile that? How do you believe good could ever enter that room again?
Can hope and hopelessness live together in the same breath? Do they have a right to?
I don't know. I don't know what lies before me.
I don't know. I don't have any of the answers. I just need to believe.
I hope the words I love you, from the one chosen and the one who chose me fall into my heart and allows it to swell. To swell once again with promise of more life, more good, more hope.