And so it goes...

...that I would listen to a guitar and feel. That I would reminisce and be aware of life, and time, and how much things have changed. How much is still the same. My mild discomfort, my curiosity, my shame. The chords, the words, my heart.

I don't know what I am doing here. In trying to explain it I lost myself, lost my words, and realized I didn't know. I still don't. I tried to find some way of coming to terms with everything, and was left with dry eyes and red wine.

I want to cry out. I knew what the matter was, fleeting so now it is gone. That somewhere I feel disconnected. That somewhere I feel demeaned and let down, rejected and hurt. Somewhere I seek solace in empty arms. Sometimes all my heart does is sing.

That I know who I am, and what I am. That I know who is wrong and who is right. That as much as I rage, I am comfortable here, and as much as I cry I know the truth. This is good, and right. No matter what happens, tomorrow is a goodbye forever. That maybe all of this is because I don't know how to say that, that I am afraid of endings.

Such is life, such is an ending. At least I have arms to come home to. They are my own.