For so long, I was in a city of grey concrete. Just grey. Nothing spectacular, just melancholy and grit. I yearned for that twilight of orange and purple among the high-rises, with ribbons of white on the left and red on the right, winding up the cardinals. A city of gold and silver, with twinkling windows above the alleys and sidewalks. Something thrilling yet soft and careful. I always envisioned it, but never thought I’d find it.
Then you.
I saw a future. I could breathe that crisp, quiet air. I heard the music. I thought you could hear it, too. And we danced. The colors grew deep and settled, and we climbed higher rooftops with each passing evening in each other’s arms. We made our own music up there, above the unrest. The days disappeared, and it was nothing but peaceful bliss of twilight.
Orange and purple.
There was no need to hope for more. There was nothing more to strive for, nothing to fight for. We just soared. It was going to last. It would have endured. But gravity set in, and I crumbled under the weight. The higher you go, the longer the fall. It took one slip from the precarious ledge, and we both landed in separate gutters.
There’s nothing here in the refuse of storm drains and manhole covers. Just dirt and dust and grime. It’s all I deserve, but not you. I should have been the only one to fall. I was the only one to slip, and I selfishly grabbed your hand and fell, you with me. It wasn’t fair.
I deserve to be left here in this filth. You deserve the golden city. I made promises, promises I intended to keep. I broke them all in one fell swoop. I can’t win you back. I’m lower than that. If there’s any winning at all, it’s winning you like I did when the concrete grey became twilight gold. I strain in the dark to recall what it was that started that blaze, and wonder if there’s a chance in heaven or hell of finding that again.
You hope I learn something from this for the future. I’ve lost my future; it had nothing to do with me from our starting point on. It had to do with us. The very us I purged in my daft, meaningless self-centered mistake. I lament, I plead, I cry, but to what avail? I deserve this, but I won’t accept it. Not while this flickering flame alights my soul.
You trusted me. You loved me. You believed in me. You had faith in what I could bring your life, and you made it ours as well. You never tarnished it. You never went against the grain. Everything you ever did was for us. 100 percent, 1 percent more than I gave. That small, menial 1 percent that I failed to deliver overpowered the other 99% that I held so aloft. That 1 percent was such a burden, and I stuffed it way, way down because I knew that it would destroy every hope and desire we had for us. But in my selfish attempt at preventing turmoil and sadness, I forgot what honesty means. And what can I do now? I can only try.
Try.
Try.
Please believe me when I say that I truly want this. Us. More than anything in me. Call it cliché, call it a selfish plea; it’s the truth. You will not be hurt by me again. Whether that means every inch of me will henceforth be for us if you allow me back in, or that us will no longer be, you will not be hurt on my account. I won’t have it. I’ve seen what it’s done, the damage, the pain, and I can’t bear to live with that possibility. I have learned something from this: The meaning.
The meaning of love. The meaning of compassion. The meaning of honesty. The meaning of trust. The meaning of fragility. The meaning of giving everything and anything to make each day and night together something more beautiful than the last. I admit my frailties. I own up to my mistakes. I only pray for your forgiveness, your love, your compassion, your honesty, your trust, and your one last chance. If offered, I will not lead you to regret it.
I cannot deny that there is something here above the mess of it all, in our own little world. I feel it in my soul, my mind, my heart, my body, and my spirit, though I’ve failed to show that fully. It’s something that will never shake, no matter how hard the quake. If I sound desperate, pleading, or fleeting, please forgive me; it’s only my heart. Truly. Point out my flaws. Call out my mistakes. “It’s just me.” I can’t give you everything. I can’t promise it’s all going to be okay. I can only assure you, again and again, to whatever end, that it all will not be in vain. It’s cold. It’s lonely, and God only knows, it’s what I deserve. I only ask for the chance to be what I should have been.
I don’t expect anything above what you’ve already supplied. I only want to balance it out the way it should be. 50-50. Nobody said it was easy; it’s just such a shame that we should part. I want to be everything you’ve been to me, and more. The security blanket. The go-to guy. Not the wet blanket. Not “that guy”. I don’t want to linger as a memory of what to avoid, what to be wary of, what to look out for. I want to remain as the one that went through thick and thin with you. I want to be the one that endured. I want to be the one worthwhile. I know I haven’t been that, but God… I want to be. I know I can be. I just need this chance. I don’t deserve it, my actions don’t warrant it, and I certainly don’t expect it. I only ask for it. Please.
Don’t throw me aside. Yes, I broke your heart, that tender heart. Give me a chance to mend it. If that means releasing it, so be it. But if you want to offer one last fighting chance to fulfill my promise, to achieve that dream of ours, above the noise, above the trials and and shattered hopes, I only ask for that one fighting chance.
Remember that day by the ocean? You took my hand as I lead you down that sordid path along the roaring cliff, and we stared out at the immense blue emptiness. That was the moment I knew. That was when I shivered with the prospect that of all the little sparks floating in the world, yours was the one that lit my soul ablaze. I only ever wanted it to burn, though I snuffed it with the tribulations of a out-of-mind evening, leaving you to wonder where I was, and me knowing I wasn’t where I should be. A smoldering ember can be lit again. It’s on my shoulders to find the spark again. Find what you fell in love with, and remain that, as you have for me all this time together.
I hold you very close to my heart, and I hope you hold me in the same regard, at the end of all things. I pray I leave this as a passing thought and not a parting one.
