Sometimes, when my finger gets caught between the pages of a book I'm reading, or when there is a gap between words in a conversation, I wonder who you could have been - the colour of your eyes, what your laughter sounds like, how many stitches you've had since you were a kid, what makes you scrunch up your face in disgust, who breaks your heart. And I have to be okay with the fact that these are things I'll never know.
Friday, 22 July 2011
things I have to accept
Sometimes, when my finger gets caught between the pages of a book I'm reading, or when there is a gap between words in a conversation, I wonder who you could have been - the colour of your eyes, what your laughter sounds like, how many stitches you've had since you were a kid, what makes you scrunch up your face in disgust, who breaks your heart. And I have to be okay with the fact that these are things I'll never know.
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You smile at me. Your eyes twinkle just a bit, a twinkle just for me. Your cheeks puff a bit, brows furrow, and a hundred little lines and folds form on your face, from the thousands of smiles you have had before you ever met me. There are so many things that happened to you, that caused your face to smile the way it does now. A story behind each and every laugh line on your face. But I'll never know all the people who helped sculpt the perfection that now smiles at me. And I have to be okay with the fact that these are things I'll never know.
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