I haven’t written all that much in the last month.  Attempting to deal with that which lay ahead consumes me on most days.  I spend my days now with my spoon mostly.  She’s helped me through this in ways that I won’t ever write about publicly.  I spend the days with B also.  He’s so good to me and good for me that I wonder why after an hour of sleep, restless as fuck, I type now, haunted by a reality my sub conscious created that was more appealing than the likely truth…..you simply never wanted me in the fashion I wanted you.

I am neither the first nor the last woman to ever love a man who didn’t reciprocate in kind.  When I am an old woman in one of those places Bonnie now resides I will tell our love story to the staff.  They won’t know about the pain.  They won’t know about my loss. It will be a beautiful story of two people who loved one another.

I suspect I will tell them you died.  It makes so much more sense than the dream that has me up at sunrise.

It would make a great script though, one I would ask your help in writing if the you I could reach out to still resembled the you who captured my  soul once upon a time.

The premise was simple.  This was all a plot, ploy, plan to preserve…..well I am unsure to preserve what but there was something.

The ghost mask was simple.  Every man built to blend in, unassuming, ready to pull the literal or proverbial trigger if  something went wrong.

It makes sense in the same way that I breathed a little easier when you had locs down to the back of your knees than when you showed up again with that non de script haircut. They tell me that dreams only last for seconds.  Logical when you compare that to our moments of happiness.

You were always trying to protect me from the “truth”, yet I was always there when things went left.  I fought by your side until we were overwhelmed, and when it became time to put on the next ghost mask, you returned to me once more.  Sounds kind of familiar there.

Facebook keeps saying that I might know you.  Mark Z is hella wrong there.  I know what gets pieced together over time.  The  holes in the plot though are large.  Instead of sleeping I dreamt of you.  I know in part why…..its Hanover.

As wonderful as my week with these two people I love shall be…..it will still be that place where you saw your opportunity to leave and took it. That will always sting in  a way because every place that prompted one of your real life ghost masks stings.

as I prepare to sign off with that signature that you gifted me I am thinking that this time

this time

nevermind

 

Aphrodite Brown