Do you see my face?

In ending my fear, that's where I began.

I sat there waiting for your call, contemplating our last conversations and recounting the messages that came through my mind. You were cracked. I heard your hysteria. I was a blur and you were crumpling. I wondered if there were any other tones to your voice that I had to be intent on re-listening, or what I had to reread between the lines through your letters that I had possibly misrepresented, mistook, or missed. My Eiffel was shaken and trembling and I was about to fall. My honest heart was crippling. I crumbled thereafter in hearing each strand of my heart strings snap with each twinge of your voice, severing the ties of what I thought was a great symphony.

It ended with a great, big, bang.

My knees buckled beneath me when I crouched on the floor in a solemn prayer with an overflow of tears running down my cheeks. I searched my mind, memories, and voices to find what I could in whatever effort I searched for to make up for any mistakes. I remember pacing back and forth before I heard you, praying to God in hopes that my soul wouldn't get stolen before I got the chance to redeem myself with a sin that I couldn't have known to have committed.

I got no mercy and felt a shot through the heart, with nowhere near a clue as to where it was coming from. I struggled as I fell asleep with the unconsciousness.

After the light ended and a new sun arose, a new day began. I felt comatose. I don't know when my heart turned it's face, although I do remember the cold and burning froth it left that replaced it's landmark, like here on Earth. My breath passed through my lungs in a winter chill. My hands turned to be tiny Midas icicles. Anything that I seemed to touch I could match their eyes with frozen stiffness and as much astonishment on their faces than on mine.

You become more genuine in the appreciation of your own life when you have felt something deep down die right inside of your own chest. You could also be the one to turn solidly defiant in building your own coffin around your heart, burying it deep within you so that you can't be touched. Either way, a treasure lies there.

I knew myself in relation to the fair Snow White, after you. A picture of the same innocence, naivety, gentleness, and genuinely not looking for what I had lost or misplaced or let go of, endearing the lack of beauty that was a concept by me as opposed from what I could say I believed by your opposite belief in who you said looked like an angel. Disregard - I tried to become more genuine and kept maintained to try to involve myself with the care for some other that I had hoped to not be desperate for. I found that I had wholeheartedly loved.

I closed my eyes and peeked on rare occasion. I stayed as a wallflower and played possum. I let go of the language that I sought to hear and ignored all other initiations because of my mind that stayed backlogged as my heart began crying out to move on. I ran in a new direction when I thought I was hearing with my own ears for a real chance to make another turn with someone else. I clenched my stubbornness and will about the idea of my being in a relay race. Still, to this day, I don't know how this might end. I expect to trip and fall. I wonder when it will all come tumbling down and how I'll hold up, once more. I only question, when will it happen and how will I be able to catch myself? I might get tripped up in this new runner's high I'm finding myself in. By chance, I should start to get equipped. My hand might be let go of and I'll fall to the wayside, again - it's what I thought I heard in a mention a length's back in time. That was a moment where I felt faint.

I look in the mirror now to rationally think. I'm a very different type of girl in the fact that the world disregards me as it's own typical stereotype. I see Me more clearly. I wonder if I have forgotten the face of my Father or that of my Mother. I wonder what my true face is. Who am I when I'm alone? I'm faithful. I'm confident. I'm contented. I'm satisfied. I know I'm safe with me. I am quiet. I'm open. I'm honest. I'm amused. I'm relaxed. My thoughts slow their intelligent comprehensive meanings. I'm genuine. I'm happy. I'm whole. I see no blemish, even if you do. I love even more, and my heart goes on, and on, and on...

As I get tired and sleepy, I curl up in my nest to dream until the next morning. I continue to wonder throughout the night as my prayers progress to God for the one that I have already met, or not have met yet, to where I'm being led towards - and I wonder what my real complexion might be if I try to ignore it in front of you all?

Posties.

I keep a pad of PostIt! Notes on my desk to try to catch the passing thoughts that I have for you. I try to translate them into good meanings throughout the day. I try to keep them in order to be able to write like this. If I could mentally transcribe my mind into script, you could read my mind.

Then, I wouldn't need to feel the need to slap the words on my forehead.

The depth of Me.

It's time for that season and I thought of bringing you good tidings. You've brought them to me countless of times, more than I had never asked for. I was pierced by the memories of you being taken for granted. At an opportune moment, you had even said that I had become the same as that offhand remark, halfmindedly - maybe. My heart stung, then the heat of the sear set in a little while later on until this meantime.

Was auf immer, I think to myself.
Ich habe keine Ahnung...


I walked inside of the building to find what I was looking for - the gifts that I sought out for you. I knew part of the reason why I felt that I had to, wanted to, and were inclined to - love, and another half, guilt. I found the things that I was struck to, then I bought them, got a gift box, and carried them out of the way to where they will stay - here in this little room, where I lay. I'd wait for the more expensive prize for you to trophy later, when I'd know exactly what you want to display with my own affection for you.


I have a hard time setting my mind to where you are at. The fact is, I can't, and I'm not capable of it. I find that I guess it's probably because of the fact that you aren't going to let me - or maybe you find that you don't want to allow it, based on some subtle hurt that still resides in your confounds.


I figure my only response to this is to set my heart back to let the boy go, is what I tell my mind to do - or at least, what my mind tells me. I can never make the distinguish. I do what I'm told, or what I tell myself - and I keep to my own heart part when I'm with you. I'd be kept at that, just so that I don't get in your way. I know that I'd most likely get pushed over by you, whether that is said or not - you'd look me dead in the eyes and I'd know there'd be no bargain. It's in the cut-throat decisions, I've come to recognize. I could be considered as the third wheel by you, come second thought.


I can't distinguish you. This is how the merry-goes-round in how I'm spinning. Here it goes again - I don't know what I mean, I don't know what you mean. I don't know what I'm meaning to you, I don't know my meaning to you. What is our meeting, meaning? It's difficult with an unclear meaning.


I don't know what you want - and that's what is difficult to me, the struggle that's continuous in my trying to grasp in my consciousness about you. I think that I might be in too deep. That I've fallen too deeply in order to be used by you. Consciously, I'd make half the effort just to know, what do you want from me? What are you using me for? I'm on a ground, hands and knees, asking you, God, some kind of divinity, or anyone - antworten Sie mir, bitte. Maybe there is no way that you can answer, truthfully, and quite possibly - perhaps there isn't one because there is none. My only conclusion is that I'm fallen. You can have me. I've some liquid left, the blood in my red veins that hasn't turned blue yet, the dying oxygen that's come out from under my skin. You can use the nitrogen to set me off on fire. I would burn all the way down to the lower grounds for you. Please don't ridicule me, I'm only melting in my thoughts for you.


I've loved. I'm terribly shy at still loving you. You're a real thing - and I've been whittled away at unrealistically. When you asked me to let you in, you were already staring at my core, when I was stark and stripped away. I've been splayed open since then, waiting for any answer, any thought that's on your mind, any thing you want to tell me, any want or need or struggle that you're having... yet, I'm still stuck at bay.


Ich weiss nicht, is the only answer and question to you that I can think of. Maybe I'll never know and it will be lost in the depths of my mind, until another time - where this cycle begins again. This time around, I still don't know where I, we, us, you - are going.


I dwell and I meditate in my mental repertoire when I come to think about you. I find myself falling before you can even catch me.


So then I'm left looking at the ripples from the bottom's up where I'm left not certain about their creation.

I left her behind, back there.

I sit down. I'm writing this to you. I'd like to share this namesake with a dedication.

This is to you:

The you, whom I'd like to call "my" own.

And to those you(s) who are "dear".

And to you, whom I "love".

And most importantly, to "you" - and only you.

From,

Me.