Passing Ships

There are moments when you meet someone and your world sort of stops.  It’s like finding a long lost part of yourself and immediately you miss what never was.  Because it can’t be.  Because you’ve met them 16 years too late and there’s a ginormous piece of granite separating you.

Or something like that.

It’s difficult to rationalize soul connections.  Why do you meet?  What are they supposed to show you, teach you, give you?  And why, at times, does it seem so treacherous that the only way for someone to give you what you need is to ultimately give you nothing more than the mere knowledge that they exist?

The unscratchable itch that tests every boundary of resistance.  I have never done well with boundaries.  I cross them all of the time.  It’s a challenge of epic proportions.  

And maybe there is a moment when he let's you see him under a street light and for a second you can close your eyes and pretend that he will just exist there, in light, beside you.  And maybe in that moment you fall in love.  Maybe. 

There is gratitude in knowing one can feel.  Even if it’s wrong.  I miss what never was.  Greatly.