Lovesongs

Since El left, I've been drained. My emotions have floated up and down on the wind, but never dipped below love. I worried about seeing her, about being with her, and I made mistakes. Mistakes that I can't even begin to justify or rationalize. They were mistakes to the point of being cruel, of being dirt, of being complete slime. And then it happened.

I cried and typed, my fingers fluttered over the keys like scared birds. I was trying to explain myself. Trying to channel my complete feelings through those plastic keys, letting spelling, grammar and complete respect for language drift to the wayside. I was on the edge of something amazing, perilously dangling off.

I fell a few times. Completely struck by a gust of well-deserved wind of reality, but every time, she was there to grab my shaking hands, pulling me up to the edge. We talked and talked, finally making camp at the peak, our tent teetering left and right on the edge of a real relationship.

After the talk, I sat outside. The night was overcast, and I couldn't see my familiar friends, the ones who would shine over me when I was alone, when I was missing Her dearly. They turned their back on me, ashamed at what I had done. I brought out my guitar and started to sing.

I worked my way through the old songs, the familiar ones about love lost and love found. About Spring and about falling. I sang about the stars, and a hole appeared, no bigger than my tear-soaked eyes, and I smiled.

I sang to it as my fingers strummed new chords and new progressions. My voice lifted. I hadn't written this song, but I knew every word. I sang from my heart, letting my feelings and emotions drive the beat and meter. I didn't care who heard me. I was singing for Her. I was singing for my friends, the stars. And, I am pleased to say, I've never sung more loudly ever before.