Soundtrack Of You

We walked those old city streets like we owned them

Warm breath turning into clouds of white

Walking back to your tiny apartment

Ellis street dark, we once found love here

You take your coat off

The sounds of the city, from open windows

You ask if I wanna know you

You play me your play list

Every song reminds me of you

Is this still the soundtrack of you

I asked you to leave this town with me

You stared out the window, into dying stars

You say nothing, another silent no

It’s so hard to move on, knowing you moved on

I hate this city

I’m so tired of everything

That old apartment always drafty and cold

Impatient traffic rolling off to distant places

I now avoid Ellis street

Strangers spying from broken blinds

God, this is all killing me

Do you ever think of Ellis street

Was it a dream we once lived in

I wish we’d moved out to the country

In the past, there’s no new beginnings

I’m homesick, wishing away my past

You say nothing, another silent no

It’s so hard to move on, knowing you moved on

Magic

I can’t go back in time so I keep moving. My movement isn’t always forward, sometimes it’s backwards, sometimes in a circle. Movement offers me a false sense of progress. This life seldom dispenses second chances, it offers up lessons.  I keep moving, I keep reaching out.

It’s a lonely quest, scavenging through life in search of purpose, love and someone to relate to. To be understood is to be loved. To expect to be understood is “crazy”. If you want to be loved in spite of all your weird idiosyncrasies and foibles, adopt a rescue dog. If you want to be exploited and abused, allow a cat to adopt you…Relationships are built on such subtle differences. Friends will change without telling you, others may ghost you for unknown reasons and some pass away never to be seen again———at least not in this life.

I worry, “Did I let everyone I love know how much I appreciate them in my life (Note to self, tell everyone I appreciate them in my life, excluding those occasional assholes). I fret over the thought that perhaps I never let my parents know how much I respected and loved them. We become so accustom to our parents unconditional love, that it’s easy to take this gift for granted. My parents stuck by me, in-spite all my stupid life decisions. Time goes by quickly, words are free, don’t hold back——let those you care for, know how much you love them.

These days I lack a meaningful connections with others,…….Maybe I could better define this malady as a disassociation syndrome. In other words, so many things no longer fit together—My “Why’s” far out weigh my “How’s”……..The veneer of this thing called reality is wearing thin. Everything seems so unreal and strange to me. I stumble about thinking, “Is this the way things are supposed to be?” “Is this the way I supposed to be?” We all have our own brand of craziness, we just become comfortable by wrapping it in our own private shiny distractions. If you don’t know how the trick is done, then it’s magic——misdirection, sleight of hand, illusion, Love?? Life??