Have A Piece of Ache ( 25th B-Day)

Happy Birthday – Now Have a Piece of Ache

 

 Over a month has passed since we’ve spoken…before that, the time in between words had been even longer.  She’s sorry…for being a bad friend; she’s sorry…for not knowing what she wants; she’s sorry that she can’t decide whether or not she would rule out romance for us in the future…I wish she could be sorry for how my heart feels now in the wake of timid hope awakened by her words.  I already feel like a fool for letting her this close to me again…and she’s done it with my permission.

 

 About a month ago

 

 How gloriously painful the words must be for the poet when they are simply glorious to the reader.  I don’t claim to be a poet, but I would like to think that I can empathize.  For when the reader sees enough beauty to interpret emotion, one can only imagine the heart strain poured out by the poet.

 

 I’ve watched her grow in leaps and bounds over the past few months.  Childlike simplicity has morphed into the subtle complexities of womanhood almost over night.

 

 And her body follows suite.  She has said that she has worried that she has been gaining weight.  I wanted to tell her that she has been gaining weight…in all the right places…and I feel that I could tell her that if I could expect her to take it fully as compliment.  The best word in the past to describe her was “cute,” but now the only appropriate word that comes to mind is “striking.”  Her father’s heart must break when he sees his youngest child, and only daughter, move into womanhood at such a rate.

 

 She has found her color.  Her adolescent association with pink is fading – thankfully.  She wore two tones of brown on Sunday.  Her skin and hair found a natural match; for the first time her complexion matched her clothes in way that can only be described as “at home.”

 

 And her eyes are blue…unchanging…beautiful…windows to her soul that have had the shades pulled down recently, hiding the secrets within.  Open to the world from the inside perhaps, but now guarded from me looking in.

 

 That is why the words you are reading may be glorious to you – for they hint at loves possibility – but gloriously painful for the one who wrote them down

 

 Peace and Love

 

 Mikey