They say it’s out there. They tell me to keep looking or to stop and let it come to me, but the lack of agreement confuses my heart. I feel the strings of logic and love wrap around me. The twist strains the beating making it jump and shudder. When I cut one, the pressure lifts for a moment. The message clears, and then clouds when the next word is uttered causing the cycle to begin once more.
I’m not held in Juliet notions. A love to die for is a step past the forever I desire, but there’s a touch of whimsy in this dream. One that sparkles the edges enough to hold my attention in short breaths. Don’t confuse this with all-consuming passion. It lies far from the abyss created by those fires. This love is the spark; the one that lives bound in soulful whispers and sits on silver lined fancies.
It was once written in a screened memory best. When I heard the words leave her lips I felt them resonate; a dream of love that will still time. Those are the sentiments that echo in me. I go back from time to time to hear them again, because, even though the box is empty, those words still hold power over me. As does the moonlit warnings woven in her tale.
It’s possible that chance passed me somewhere in the turmoil. The forever love set beside the road was missed while my mind wandered in moonlight and waves. I’d go back to search the gravel, but I’ve traveled so far for so long that I’m sure it’s moved on to another heart.
I could let the regret swallow me, I could let the pain overwhelm, but I haven’t reached the end yet. And I desperately want to see where the road leads, if it truly leads anywhere. Right now there’s no light on the horizon, only that moon…echoing her warning.