I want to go back – before there was a possibility, an inkling, a potential put out there. Before the whisper got into my ear. When it was simple and just the company was enjoyed. When I didn’t think, didn’t worry, didn’t contemplate everything.
I spent the last years of my marriage giving my heart and my soul to a man who didn’t know what to do with them. Instead, he left my heart laying there, on the ground, beating, bleeding, calling out for him to pick it up and make it better. I finally had to take it back and hide it deep within myself to protect it from getting shattered even more.
And now, I’m doing it again. Holding my heart out in my hands to one who doesn’t see it there. At least he’s not knocking it out of my hands and kicking it around the room. I think I’m doing that quite effectively by myself. But the hints and glimpses of something imagined make it difficult to keep holding it out there.
Maybe I should pull it back and put it away. After all, it’s only a gift if he takes it.
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