Inspired by a novel

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZmXnnwgZCaM&feature=related

I used to think there was something really special about you and me. It was a crazy affair but one that is never forgotten no matter how hard I try. I never see you now. Our lives were always miles apart but we managed to meet half way now and then. Actually I was the one doing all the hiking. Looking back on it now, and it is like a lifetime ago, it all seems like a blur. I wonder if you have changed dramatically or if you are still the same. I never thought I knew you well but I knew what you showed me and that was more than enough. The pathways towards you (which are entwined and scattered) have been sealed shut for so long that it is difficult for me to express what it is like with you.

So many incidents stand in between, so many obstacles now permanently set. My mind however can jump over all of those and still reaches you at the most random of times. You are often in my dreams and in my thoughts, even though I do not utter the words. I am forbidden to cross that bridge again in fear that I will be caught. Caught and put under a magnifying glass for everybody to scrutinize. After all that has happened I am ashamed that you are still the one for me. I am ashamed that I still wish for you. Like giving a child a tiny corner of cake when the whole thing stands in all its glory ready to be devoured by everyone but them. Usually I would prefer to not taste it at all – but I have. I remember the gaze, the electricity, the power in what we had. It’s just a nice memory I say to myself, nothing will ever come of it so shut it out, block it out, erase it, forget it. You always seem to seep through though.

A question remains, which has long gone unanswered. Can a connection so deep ever be one sided? I always wrote about what was happening inside me in the period of time you were in my life. As if speaking the words aloud just wasn’t enough. It was so deeply felt that it needed to be seen, heard as well as felt and ‘tasted’ (dare I say). The fifth sense being touch went on multiple levels. It pieced right through and carved a little letter on my heart as well as needles to my ankle. So prohibited is this topic that I think before I write so as to make sure the subject is not clear enough to be understood by others but by me alone.  “It doesn’t represent some love’s initial does it?” some may ask – in a tone so belittling I have a set answer for the question. I let a loud laugh explode from  my stomach before saying “of course not, what do you think I am crazy?”. It can only be so.