MeliGoesRogue

“The most painful state of being is remembering the future.” Kierkegaard

I sit beneath the moon whose light feels brighter than the sun. Confronted with something I have likened to love but is in reality true care and friendship. I have confused the two and the pain comes each time I realize my error. You cannot be the hero of my story. He would move the mountains to be by my side. I have allowed myself to continually take counterfeit love in the hope that my heart would not tell the difference. I was once told the only way to tell a counterfeit is to spend time studying the real item.

I am cheating myself by leaving the only part of my heart that I control in a gilded cage and you with the only key. Love does not desire bars but rather the crags and moors where it can reveal itself in the hidden places and protect itself in the open fields.

I have tried hardening my heart and closing my eyes but the love that springs forth like a well from within needs a bowl to fill. But my eyes are scarred and see only what they desire and not the truth. What is one to do when all they desire is sight and all they have is blindness.

I must rely on my other senses those that are not as easily betrayed.