Lovely Stranger

Lovely Stranger,

As I write you this melancholy melody I fight to hold the tears back, but in between breaths some still escape down the side of my face. Resentment leases my heart, where love used to stay. Who are you now; you are no longer recognizable to me by title or by face.

 Once upon a time you were the only one who really knew me, now you barely know my name. The person whose heart I chased after; anything to make you proud was my optimal ambition in life to sustain.

The characteristics I saw in you no one could ever live up to. I sulk in confusion, disappointing disillusion of who I used to know. In your words there was love, hope and comfort, now no longer adolescent I understand that words cannot be followed. Only the footprints of your actions should lead me to my conclusion of you.

 I can’t stop crying over the loss that I feel. It’s like you died but you are still here.  The decisions you made were not as they should have been, instead you did something different causing a butterfly effect tragic and lonely it seems in the end. Youthful joy and an elderly spirit cannot be protected now. You threw them in the midst of this unstable certainty; affecting their sense of trust and what they thought their lives would be. You perverted the roles in which we play; I hope it will all be worth it one day. When I look into the eyes of innocent smile, I am saddened because I see the desperation to hold on to something unknown that should be there, but instead we are left to stand-in.

Our relationship now is like keloid skin never truly healing within. What happens to the confused and disappointed faces; was the trade-off worth your selfish gratification? When you are not around there are times I forget you even existed; but then you appear and I can’t runaway fast enough from the memories you have awakened. I offer to help you with your bags, but when I turn to see how you are doing, I see that you are gone and you forgot all of your bags here with me. If foolishness is bound in the heart of a child, then I thank you for releasing me, my unexpected rod of reality. Now you are just a lovely stranger, an acquaintance with a charming smile who I feel like I knew in another lifetime. I constantly feel like you remind me of someone, but indubitably you are not that person.  You are just a lovely stranger that I care for.

What should we call a gypsy in its novelty form? When did this transition begin? When did the normalcy become too much for you to bear within? All my questions I need answers to, but I see no point in bothering you. My curiosity for the answers has faded as the years have gone by, the damage is done. I hope one day I will see you again with new eyes. It’s like we all have amnesia, can’t really remember right now what we used to be. I live now with photographs from the past of people I no longer see.