I Wonder
By Jim Cavalier
I wonder...
"As I walk alone, I wonder, what went wrong with our love, a love that was so strong..."
I wonder. Sometimes I think of her, often I think of her. Her beauty, her soft lips. For years I've been writing her love songs, letters not to be sent, begging for reconciliation. For years, I've pined for her touch. There was one woman I've loved beyond how I know how. For years, I've prayed to a non-existent god to reunite us. For years, I've begged for the return of the one that could save me from myself. The woman who meant more than life itself, the first to be the last. I think of her often. I see her in a thousand faces every day. Her perfume, though miles behind, still strong on my clothes. Her eyes, looking into mine, soothing the torment that follows me. I can only dream of her touch, her kiss, her warmth.
"Do you remember chalk hearts melting on a playground wall..."
And
we were young. Too young. All I knew was the warmth of her touch, the sweetness
of her moist. What I wouldn't have given for her. What I still wouldn't give
for her. There is no price too high, no sacrifice to great. My life for her,
as it would have been, as it could be, as it is. She. I only wish to have
her once more before I die. To know that she love me before I let slip this
mortal coil. To hold her once again and softly tell her "I love you", as
I once and always did.
"Her mother called her beautiful, Her daddy said, 'A whore'."
TO go back, to save her. To save her now. What price wouldn't I pay. What sacrifice too great? None. All I've ever known of the magic and mystery of Love, I learned from her. There was a time, when I took her in my arms, looked into to her eyes, and professed an undying love. While it lives on, I die. Slowly, day by day, year by year. The women I know now, meaningless. The sex, empty. The love, withheld. She matters most of all. She, a thousand miles away, with another, and dearly missed. Longed for like home. A dozen years ago, to free her, to battle all that is familiar. To fight for her, against father, against mother, to run with her to a freedom so far from home. If only to be with her... I bleed now.
"The sky was Bible black in Lyon, when I met the Magdalene..."
A thousand times I've called her name. A hundred lovers scorned by the sound. No woman could replace her, no lover her equal. Every woman compared. Every woman failing by comparison. And yet, I still try. Looking, hoping to equal the love lost. Never once believing it possible. Never once actually expecting redemption. The emptiness is unbearable. Alone in a crowd, surrounded and solitaire, I stand.
" Nicotine smears, long, long dried tears..."
And I sit, destined for solitude. Alone with my heart, unforgiven. As the blood dries, and the tears fade, a cigarette smolders blowing smoke hearts to the memory of her. If only...
And I wonder... If we were still together... if we tried again... if. If I told her how I still feel about her.. And I wonder if it's better that she doesn't know. And I bleed. Painfully, steadily, I bleed. If only too slowly.