Monday, March 22, 2010


As we look into the future, it's as far as we can see,
So let's make each tomorrow be the best that it can be.

--George Strait

Letting go of someone is like saying goodbye to your favorite city.

The lamppost where you hailed a taxi while the rain poured and you just couldn't make yourself care that it was raining. Because the two of you were against the world, so wrapped up in each other, that you somehow negated the rain.

Your love is stamped into the bricks of the sidewalk, and as you walk past it one last time (you tell yourself it's one last time, but inside you know better) and it makes you wonder who else has loved those bricks the same way you have.

And when you think about leaving, you feel the familiar pull of your heart. The tears burn close, but you blink them back. This isn't the time for grieving, this is the time for remembering.


The bridge on the park where the lights were muted, your breath turning white and then disappearing. You were too busy watching your breath fade into the night to realize that he was leaning in close, and then he was kissing you. Kissing the cold away.

You kissed him back, and you tasted forever tinged with something else, but you never let yourself think too much on it. You knew he wasn't yours to hold, but you knew you would love him as much as you could for as long as you could.

You knew that maybe he even wasn't his own. And you accepted it. You took your memories of the good days and that's how you defined your relationship.
He deserved that, even more when you realized how little he knew you.

You'll always have the way his eyes looked, the way you could make them shine. That time you spent $700 on a camera for him back in a year that's long past.

He knew you couldn't afford $700, and when his eyes met yours, you saw that shine, that was part tears, part 'how did you know?'
You felt how full he made your heart, and you wanted to tell him that. You wanted to tell him that you saved, you worked extra shifts, and that you would've done it a thousand times over, just for that look in his eyes.

Even now, as I kiss those memories one last time, chase them to the place they will be safe for someone else to find, because I don't need them anymore, I can't help but feel a little sad.

It's not wanting him back, but it's wanting to kiss him one last time. The goodbye kiss that I wish I knew was goodbye. I know there's someone else putting that shine in his eyes, and that's all I could ever want. So, I'll drink one last drink to that beautiful shine in his eyes. I'll hold him tightly, and then when I let go, I'll let that memory live somewhere else. In someone else. Because that's where it belongs.


The Mad Hatter said...

Sal, you keep knocking every single post out of the park. This is wonderful and beautiful and sad and happy and about a hundred more. I am truly jealous of your abilities.

Rita said...

Ahhh Miss Sal - I've got 'leaky eyes'. This is beautifully written and captures a sentiment that is so unbelievably hard to describe.

I heart you.


Hunter said...

Good stuff, Sal. Here's to moving forward.

Travis said...

You inspire me.

Maryx said...

'Because that's where it belongs...'

I love this post. As I do ALL of your posts. I don't know how you do it. So honest and heartfelt. I envy your talents. But enjoy them nonetheless. =D

Amber said...

I thought the last three sentences were perfection.


Remember my own poems and life and reality and dreams. Or remember anything. Cause there's nothing to remember. Just feel.

I like it.