Vidal's Verse

I am still haunted by memories and feelings that should have long ago passed. The problematic curse of an almost perfect memory. Do I remember the days perfectly or do I remember her as being perfect?

These are just stories told poetically. This is a place for my words to live. Some lead good lives and others not so much. I would call these Poetic Stories. 

A Picture of a List of Things That Should Only Be Spoken in Whispers

He remembered the speech vividly, the “Just friends” talk he had received years ago. Now she wanted him, now that it was too late and he had moved on. He remembered how she kept him in her life as a friend and came to him for advice on whatever relationship she was in at the time. He remembered thinking to himself “How can you get over someone as you’re falling for them?” His answer finally came late at night, as so many do, while half in the land of the living and half in the land of dreams. Distance, distance was the only answer. It had worked so many times before even on him. He knew it well, distance was a language he was fluent in. Slowly and meticulously disappearing before their very eyes like the worlds best magician. He thought to himself “I might as well be a picture, slowly fading away out of your life over time. Sitting on a shelf where no one notices how starkly different that picture is compared to the day it was first taken.” He was going to become a picture of himself. So much detail and reality but yet not real, somehow out of reach. And he did. Slowly and over time he faded out of her life with some brief interactions where necessary or dictated. But he was always distant and always busy. No time to talk, life is calling. Then one day an email, another a text, another a phone call, and finally over a span of three months a knock. “How did I screw this up to seem so open that she could just show up?” But he could read on her face she herself knew that was not the case. Once inside and the conversation got warmed up it finally came to light that she missed him and wanted him back in her life. She went on to talk about mistakes made and the blindness of youth. How she wanted to see where things could go now. His mind was on fire with anger, snippets of thoughts all adding up to one thing. “How dare she think she could live out her youthful years in such a laissez-faire style and then come back to me. I’m not second prize, I am not the one you settle down with when all else fails. The only blindness I suffered was from thinking you were someone for me.” Surprisingly, even to himself, he kept most of this thought process from her and only said “There are things in this world that should be only spoken of in whispers for fear of calling them back into the light. My feelings for you are, and have been for a very long time, one of the types of things on that list.” She smiled thinking that he meant he would be a challenge but welcomed the idea. “We all make mistakes she said, so please forgive me of mine.” As he stood up and escorted her to the door he responded, “I forgave you long ago, and it is true we all make mistakes, but what you fail to realize is we don’t all make them twice.” And he forever shut the door on her.

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