circle in the sand

Oh, baby when you look for me
Can you see forever ?
I begin baby, where you end
We belong together...

I suppose there will always be some memories. They are the ones that come raging down when least expected, the ones that explode from the mere prick of a line of poetry or a clumsy click or (worst of all) an innocent question.

I wish I could convince myself that these memories are harmless. I want to believe that they aren't suppressed desires and that there's a simple Freudian explanation for their persistence. I wish I could deny that they even exist and put an end to it once and for all.

But I know they're not harmless trifles, because at times they control me like the strings of a marionette and I am rendered helpless to their pull. They make me hunt for you and hurt for you because I still want to know that you're okay, that you're happy.

When I am powerless to remember, I look for you. I Google your name and find your picture (you really did cut your hair), and a description I know you wrote because you wrote one so like it three years ago. You're the same, except for your gourmet taste-- now you like pomegranate season and pumpkin risotto instead of candied orange peels. Maybe you're trying to forget, too.

Baby can you hear me ?
Can you hear me calling ?

Answer my imaginary call, tell me truly that you are free from the pain, the bitterness, the sorrow. Tell me that you have found some new morsel of joy in your life, that you have found someone else to share your life with.

My salvation relies upon yours. And I hate it.