A Comet Appears

We can blow on our thumbs and posture,
but the lonely is such delicate things,
the wind from a wasp could blow them,
into the sea,
with stones on their feet,
lost to the light and the loving we need.

Still to come,
the worst part and you know it,
there is a numbness,
in your heart and it's growing.

_ The Shins

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Better than indifference.

It was hard not to give up. And I think some part of me wanted you to give up. Then I could go back to feeling like I’ve always felt: not good enough.

Not good enough. In life. As a son to my father. As a friend to my friends. As a lover to my lover.

It’s where I’m comfortable. It’s where I’ve accepted myself.

But you didn’t give up, even after the claims I made, stipulations, and accusations I put on our relationship. The things we said. Even after I tried my hardest to push you away, you stayed. You fought and didn’t quit. You stayed.

We are more than the stupid stuff we buy, the TVs, the meals, the toys and games. More than the places we go, the things we do. The good times we share, the quips we trade back and forth, the pillow talk. We are more than the sum of our parts.

We’re not perfect. But neither is anyone. And sometimes we fight just because feeling pain is better than indifference. Because sometimes our lives get boring, and being in this skin for some 90+ years can get old. But that is the strength of what we have. We are never too far gone that we can’t be hugged, or kissed. Held and loved. When one pushes, the other pulls closer.

Clawing, slobbering and cold, biting and growling in our darkest hour, there we are, standing in the blinding light of an open doorway. Not two silhouettes, but one.

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