even for writers some stories are impossible to put down on paper.  impossible to name with words.

like the story of how I came to know more  than once.
just how frozen I was
like the story of how impossible this story has been.
how terrified I was of myself in the face of you.
how I wish I could go back to the time when I could have been more than frozen in fear
When I could have been open.
to you.
the countless times you tended your hand and I turned my face away even from looking you in the eye.
I thought you’d know that though I turned my face from you,
my smile still told the truth
but I simply could not ever let my gaze meet yours
for fear I might be forever changed
I stood still didn’t I?
maybe too much
I stood still while I ran
away from you.
day after day, in your then, unwaivering presence
but I stayed right there, in my heart
waiting for you to find a way to pierce through
kept telling myself one day,  soon, tomorrow maybe
I will leap
I stood on the edge of that ledge a billion times over
holding my breath
tomorrow I will jump, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
and tomorrow became many many yesterdays
and I had never taken the chance I so desperately wanted to
it was never about another kind of green
it was because you saw right through me
then and now
but now
is not then
and now is a time for other lives lived
what may just be memories
mere childhood hallucinations
haunting is just a word for love unfulfilled
lingering and looming
in the realm of impossible
life has told me
in many ways
only that which we relinquish
can be kept forever