I wouldn't be able to move on from you. Even if I tried.

"Love is a many splendored thing! Love lifts us up where we belong! All you need is love!"

and yet sometimes, it's not enough.

Sometimes, there are things in life, that cannot be let go all that easily. We feel things slip through our grasp and yet we still cling to the belief that we are still holding it in the palm of our hand. What is empty is empty. What is gone is gone. But the power of believing is so strong, that it overrides everything else. Old feelings ressurect, pain and emptiness, lonliness, regret. And yet I find the purest convictions whose roots lie deep in the heart, is love. Somehow no matter how far you travel, move on, and change, you can look at someone and suddenly just know all over again. It's you. It's always been you, and yet, it's not. How do these circumstances happen in our lives? How do we all manage to grow so far apart? Did we all just stop believing? Did we all forget how to try, and try some more, and try again? I find I don't want to except no for an answer. No cannot be the answer. How do we, any of us, love at all, when moments just keep passing us by? Perhaps those are the hardest. Not love itself. But the sweet memories of what was and could have been.

"One Day I'll fly away. Leave all this to yesterday. What more could your love do for me? When will love be through with me? Why live life from dream to dream? And dread the day when dreaming ends."

Something Old I Found

I try not to think of you,
sitting there the way you do.
A smirk on your beautiful face,
marred only by the prideful gleam of your eye,
but when that dissapeared,
and you were as you are
as you truly are,
when all facades slipped away...
your eyes held a happiness,
a glint of laughter,
that took my breath away.

Windows to your soul, you threw open wide,
and let me see through.
Windows to your soul I could fall in love with,
and I did.

Our best moments involved wild laughter
tears streaming down the face
and moments when you think
life cannot get any better
but it does.

You swung me up,
gathered me to you,
and ran away.

No thoughts involved,
no comprehension of the consequences,
wild abandonment of rational senses.

And I let myself get carried away
by the beautiful, colorful, wonderful, version of you
that you showed me.

That I loved.

I foolishly believed in him.
That other you.
I wanted forever,
I got but a day of it.

Before the shadows of future expectations started lurking.
Before the weight of responsibility and words started pressing.
Before people started asking, and talking, and noticing,
that I was by your side.
Before jeckyll became hyde,
I loved you.

One day when you've met your expectations
and risen to responsibility
when the words stop coming,
and people stop noticing who you are
when the curtain falls and your audience fades away,
you'll think of me.

And how I loved you.

You'll mourn then,
what could have been,
and blame others.
Not realizing that you had let them
smother you
and left me behind with nothing but sheepish apology.

And my brain can't wrap itself around my emptiness
and my heart has forgotten my shattered pieces

trying to stave the pain...

trying to bury you in the deep recesses of my brain.

But when the morning touches the sky
in the driftings of the dawn,
as day fast approaches
and my dreams start to lose focus,
you slip in and out
of the the windmills of my mind.
And the worst things about dreaming
is the heartache it leaves behind.

And perhaps one day I'll see you again...

and you'll know that you taught me to love
only a little too well to do good.

With Valentine's Day in Mind

I usually hate Valentine's Day. It being a totally commercially driven holiday backed up by consumerism and Halmark. That and when your single, it sucks. Everyone who is sickening enough on a day to day basis become even more so on Valentine's Day. But for someone with reason to hope....it's less daunting. So with that being said, I will give to you one of my favorite love posts by one of my favorite bloggers, http://brainyjane22.wordpress.com/ Her blog is entitled, It's like I'm mmmmmagic! and she is very witty and endearing even though she's had some very rough trials this year. With out further ado....

Then He Loves You

If he always gives you the last bite of his sandwich or the first lick of his ice cream cone, then he loves you.

If he’s seen your high school yearbook photo and says he still loves you, then he loves you.

If he’s counted all your freckles,- even the ones behind your knees, then he loves you.

If, right before sleep, he leans in, buries his nose in your hair and inhales, and when you ask what he’s doing, he smiles a smile that reminds you of a secret and says ‘nothing’, then he loves you.

If he tells you that you make chickenpox sexy, then he loves you. He’s lying, but he loves you.

If he’s laid beside you in a too small bed, in a too dark room and listened as you told him all the ways you feel like you are failing, then he loves you.

If he remembers the name of your arch enemy from the sixth grade and hates her because he knows all about how she started the rumor that you only used boys deodorant, when you didn’t- then he loves you. And he hates her. But he loves you.

If he’s ever attempted to wash your hair because you said that scene in “Out of Africa” really gets you, then he loves you.

If he makes sure that you never have to sit beside his friend Dominic, the one who never washes his hair, calls his penis “Frankie the Pork Sword” and smells like the bottom of a dumpster, then he loves you.

If you are Salma Hayek, then he loves you.

If he’s consumed your mom’s burnt chicken, let your brother win the basketball game and laughed too long and too hard at your dad’s jokes, then he loves you.

If he told you how hard he cried when his dog childhood dog died, then he loves you. Or, he’s made up the story to get into your pants. But he could love you.

If he tells you, “I don’t know how to fix this, but I want to”, then he loves you.

If he sits through “The Hills” every Monday night, then he loves you. And possibly Heidi. But he loves you.

If during hour five of an eight hour roadtrip, he sees you are bored and flips the radio station to a horrifying boy band song and begins to serenade you with his best falsetto, while keeping the beat with his hand tapping your knee, and refuses to quit until you laugh, then he loves you.

If he’s ever bought you tampons, then he loves you.

If, while vertical, sober, and full clothed, and without hope or agenda, he tells you that he loves you, then he loves you.

If he knows exactly what scene in “The Bridges of Madison County” make you cry the hardest, and he waits until the movie is over before he begins to make fun of you for crying in the first place, then he loves you.

If his favourite stories are the ones of you as a kid, if he calls you ‘my girl’ in front of his friends, if he remembers that you like the kleenex with the lotion in it, if he lets you eat his french fries when you know they are his favourite, if he makes small talk with your grandmother when you can’t deal with her crazy, if he tells you that your cute victory dance is worth his own defeat, if he checks the road conditions before you leave for a trip, if he’s ever attempted to sew a button on your favourite dress when you are running late, then he loves you.

If he’s ever fallen asleep holding your hand, then he loves you. Of course he loves you.

Wishing a love like this for you this holiday season and all the days after.

I hope you are loved, and surprised, and deserving, and faithful this Valentine's Day.

-Lauren