Like you

I thought I just loved you.

"Love breaks my bones and I laugh." He said.

Buckowski. 

It's funny because he hadn't even seen me do that when he wrote that. And yet so prosaic, so poetic, so hauntingly honest.

A thought crosses, says "Like you."

I honestly thought I had you. I wanted you. A billion times over.

As a child. As a confused adolescent. As a young woman. As a strong woman.

A hundred thousand things changed and I thought perhaps one didn't.

Tigers change stripes they say, and I did. So much so I can't even recognize the person in the mirror. How she dresses, thinks, drinks and behave: all so alien so the girl who met you.

Maybe it was a dream. Lucid. Vivid. Unreal.

Maybe for a few fleeting moments, I thought you cared.

I know I did, dreaming or not.

I had faith in purity. Purity of love. Of you, or at least the idea of you.