He’s there.  Looking at me.  His eyes say so much more than words could ever express.  The sadness, the despair, yet somehow, behind the fog there is such happiness and light.  I can’t figure him out.  How can he look at me with such guilt and at the same time, with such blame.  He’s angry.  Furious.  But why?  He knows what I go through.  He’s been there the whole time.  He should understand.  He doesn’t.  Yet at the same time, how is it possible for him not to?  I want so much to talk to him.  To ask him how he feels, and how he would do things different, but that’s insane.  I can’t speak to him any more than I can speak to an idea or a dream.  The impulse to speak overpowers me, and I begin.  I yell.  I ask why?  I want an explanation, but he can’t offer one.  How is it that he can’t?  If anyone knows how I feel, HE should.  I continue to yell, to scream, but he just stands there, mocking me.  In frustration, I punch him.  That. . .  was a mistake.  I watched as the shattered pieces of the mirror fell to the ground, and wept as I cradled my broken hand.

Posted on my Myspace blog on May 31, 2007.

-=brett=-

Lost in the moment as I looked around
At what I’ve been missing, and what I have found
The memories flood from a place I once knew
This forgotten friend never stopped being true

With arms opened wide, I felt an embrace
As all of my tears were wiped from my face
The harshness and cold that made up my soul
Replaced with fulfillment, at last I was full

For the first time in years, I really felt good
With beautiful sound around where I stood
I was lost in the moment as I looked around
I am no longer missing.  For here I am found