Years

It has been years.

Maybe that is why I sleep restlessly,
wake early
with a mind full of bees –
buzzing around
with thoughts of you.

Is it a risk I can take?
Are you a risk I can make?
Am I a risk you have forsaken?

Trust me; trust you.

As I am confessing,
I have wished for a fateful meeting.

Recently, as each day passes into the next,
every song seems to
speak of you
speaking to me.
Of us.
Of what we were.
Of what we have become.

The new leaves, budding,
leave a bitter sweet taste in my mouth.
The new life promises,
surviving the harshness of winter
and battering of the cold,
to break free and bloom
in Spring.
My eyes to look on.

I know it is sad - it is a sad loss. 
But I don’t blame you.
The best years of my life were with you.
I won’t lie about that.

We were in love.
In love:
Completely.
Stupidly.
Heartbreakingly.
I dreamt of a future together.
What were you dreaming of?

As I sleep restlessly,
dreaming of risking it all on a fateful meeting,
our songs play in my head,
the magic twinkles like stars in my vision
- a migraine memory.
My tongue, a bud,
silently promises in a new voice
and my eyes close.

I have a lead weight in my chest. 

I has been years.
I hope that time is a healer.