Just me and the keyboard

Just me and the keyboard, no just me and the keys. The words will flow freely from my mind to the screen. All I need do is think them and they are there.




Damn, it seems as if it were all so different when we first met. You weren't the type I was expected to be with but you had a beauty within that shone through. Similar to a rosebud. While still quite desirable, it's that which lies within that is the key to its beauty. Now I'm left to wonder, was it this hope that I fell so deeply in love with or was it the beauty itself.



The keys are merely extensions of my fingers. As I think the words, my fingertips instinctually find the letters which spell my thoughts.




Did you truly bloom before my eyes as I once thought you did? The days of our beginnings when secrets were revealed and frailties were exposed. Were those the first days of our spring? It felt as though my long winter had come to an end. But now I look back as it once again becomes cold and wonder if it was a warm December afternoon. Something uniquely rare but far from impossible.



The keys are extensions of my fingers as my fingers become extensions of my heart.




Was I merely imagining what it would be like when you bloomed? Was I creating your petals out of the joy I felt that winter had come to an end. I ponder on my state of mind then. Was I so lost in the beauty I saw that I forgot to wake from the dream and check on reality? See, it's easy to imagine all the glorious moments one can have if they are given hope. "What would you do with a million dollars?" Are you lost in your fantasy of spending yet? Was I so enthralled at what we could have that I forgot we didn't yet have it?



Be patient with me. I feel your words but it's hard to put them into recognizable symbols that will keep them remembered for all time.



A season of change. Someone to weather the storms with. I found a rosebud in the snow and imagined a world warmed by your company, and I watched the snow melt away. I imagined a world in which I was always understood and I stood amazed as the cold, lifeless, monochromatic world around me melted into vibrant colors of warmer, more comfortable palettes. For every aspiration I discovered, every hope I attained, I created a new petal. Imagine a dream that you want to be real so badly with every fiber of your soul, that you can't wake from it. Even as your body tells you, "Hey, you gotta wake up and deal with this reality", you fight to maintain you subconscious state and continue dreaming.




Almost there. Be still my heart for your words will be known.





Eventually reality wins. As I stood out there in the snow dreaming of the beauty to come that lied within your tightly wrapped petals I began to feel the winter winds whipping at me. They started to affect my dream. "Why? Why do I feel this cold loneliness and this numbing pain in this lively world we've created?" And as I fight to hold onto the dream, I also fight to find the reality of it. I awaken only to find myself back in the cold, monochromatic, isolated world I had always been in. Standing in the snow holding onto a single bright red rosebud. Standing in the snow, holding on to hope.





As I let my mind take control I try to make sense of things my heart has said.




I fell so deeply in love with what could have been and what we cold have had that I forgot to find out who you were and who we were together. I saw only the dream and as I noticed new things that matched my hopes I only fell deeper into it, leaving behind the reality that I was asleep to. Was my love for you real? Undoubtedly. And it still is and always will be. I'm sorry for the pain and heartache I caused while denying the truth. I now know why you were in my life. You see, I saw a rosebud and imagined in intricate detail all the splendor of your petals yet to bloom. What I was meant to see however, was a rosebud, the first of spring as I bring my own winter into a new season. You were meant to give me hope; I was just oblivious as to what to hope for. Now I know. I have my dream now. A more reality based version of the same dream I've always had. But I will wait for it to become a reality. Each bud in my life is not a failed bloomer; it's a sign of things to come. Even now my frozen wasteland becomes warmer and more inviting as I look at just your bud. You'll never bloom how I imagined, but I can't imagine the beauty I'll see when you do. I love you, I'm sorry, thank you.