This is for you. And just you.
Life was a bit more difficult than we thought. We had legal trouble, and financial trouble. We had children. We overcame abusive relationships and abusive chemicals and abusive governments and abusive people.
You went north. I went south. Others went east. Still others, west. We were together again, for only a short while. It was awful. My heart felt like it was being stabbed the entire time.
But there was a brief moment. The moment I saw, in your eyes - the love for another child - on the playground. The child in the swing. It was an unguarded moment we shared while we spoke of the church of jesus christ of latter day saints, and lesbian classical concert violinists and the weight of my return journey - 10 hours to drive to see you, 10 hours to drive back - hung over me like the sword of Damocles.
I didn't drink any coffee. Just had one now. And I smiled, and thought of you. I bet I could make a damn good cup of coffee. If you and I were together again, I would make it for you in the morning. I like to start out the day in a positive way.
And sometimes I will sleep in and be the asshole that I was, when we met. That's ok, as well. We're not perfect. I'm not perfect. I know, that just once, you'd like me to just say how I feel.
I miss you. I love you. I'm changing for the better.
That's how it is with us. That's how it was. We didn't change. We just knew what was coming.
And we didn't like it. It's ok. I want to be there when my heart is not exploding with loose eyeball nectar. I want to be there when I can share a beer.
It's ok if I lose some weight along the way.
And it's also ok, that you're still Teresa. I know you want to be someone else. But the day you were born was a day that changed my life, and the only name I know is your name. Teresa.
I respect you, your identity, everything. But I want you to know she's still here. In my heart. And I love her , still. And she is you.
I could love whoever else you love, including the new person that you want to be. I loved you as a blonde. I will love you as a brunette. I will love you on a train, in a plane. For that which we would call a rose, would by any other name - smell. And taste. Just as sweet.
A brief taste. But we are still hungry, you. And I.
Hopefully.
You went north. I went south. Others went east. Still others, west. We were together again, for only a short while. It was awful. My heart felt like it was being stabbed the entire time.
But there was a brief moment. The moment I saw, in your eyes - the love for another child - on the playground. The child in the swing. It was an unguarded moment we shared while we spoke of the church of jesus christ of latter day saints, and lesbian classical concert violinists and the weight of my return journey - 10 hours to drive to see you, 10 hours to drive back - hung over me like the sword of Damocles.
I didn't drink any coffee. Just had one now. And I smiled, and thought of you. I bet I could make a damn good cup of coffee. If you and I were together again, I would make it for you in the morning. I like to start out the day in a positive way.
And sometimes I will sleep in and be the asshole that I was, when we met. That's ok, as well. We're not perfect. I'm not perfect. I know, that just once, you'd like me to just say how I feel.
I miss you. I love you. I'm changing for the better.
That's how it is with us. That's how it was. We didn't change. We just knew what was coming.
And we didn't like it. It's ok. I want to be there when my heart is not exploding with loose eyeball nectar. I want to be there when I can share a beer.
It's ok if I lose some weight along the way.
And it's also ok, that you're still Teresa. I know you want to be someone else. But the day you were born was a day that changed my life, and the only name I know is your name. Teresa.
I respect you, your identity, everything. But I want you to know she's still here. In my heart. And I love her , still. And she is you.
I could love whoever else you love, including the new person that you want to be. I loved you as a blonde. I will love you as a brunette. I will love you on a train, in a plane. For that which we would call a rose, would by any other name - smell. And taste. Just as sweet.
A brief taste. But we are still hungry, you. And I.
Hopefully.
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