Not a love story, but a story of love
It is not an experience I am familiar with. To resonate so much with one who chooses to see only my shadow, if that. So I watch from the shadows, my shadow. I don’t venture into the light.
I don’t like the limelight but I do not dwell in the shadows any more. I spent too much time there, contemplating my inadequacy.
But my whole seems to bring you discomfort so I stay out of the light. It is a sacrifice I am willing to make though I struggle with it, because I don’t understand. Sometimes understanding that you don’t understand softens it all.
I am familiar with being misunderstood and mostly I don’t care too much about that. I know my heart. But this time is different. It matters. I have given it meaning in a world of back to back meaninglessness.
It makes my eyes well up and I get that uncomfortable stinging tingle in my nostrils when I think about it.
I’m being cryptic, I have to be, from the shadows.
Being in the light brings discomfort and I would rather be in the shadows than to do that to you.
I wish one day that you would give my heart a chance. I think you will find it sincere even if that is the only thing it has in common with yours, though I feel that there is more. I feel yours, I am richer for it and I guess that’s why I am content with watching and learning from the shadows. I will not dwell on this wish though.
Allow me at least to thank you in a gesture unknown to both of us, something that may come your way from somewhere, something that you may not normally allow in but this time do. May it bring you a smile, what ever it may be.
I want to believe that through our collective consciousness, this is possible.