How Many Times?

How many times must I walk home in the frigid cold, fighting frivolous hot tears as they splash down my cheeks, serving as the only warmth in my body? How many times must I hide my jealousy underneath a black jacket, protecting me not only from the winter, but from my own seemingly long-lost dreams, walking right past me, hand-in-hand? How many times must I swallow my pride and my heart, my anxiousness and my hope, after another failed date or encounter? How many times must I feel that pit rising from my stomach to my chest, from my chest to my throat, from the very depth of me to my eyes, where it simply has nowhere else to go, but out?

How many times can my iPhone serve as a form of torment as it refuses to vibrate in my pocket? How many numbers must I save and delete, save and delete, as their owners come and go in and out of my life, in and out of my recent digital history? How many times must I simmer in the aftermath of a great first date, a noteworthy kiss or two, for it to simply, be just that? How many times do I have to write-off another guy into the extended list of could-be’s, would-be’s, should-be’s but are actually, can’t-be’s, won’t-be’s and shouldn’t be’s? How many times must I be fooled, yet again, by some man who felt somewhat different, but turned out to be like all the rest? How many times must I be a warrior for love, must I seek it, promote it, believe it, relish in it’s infinite possibilities, before it becomes a possibility for me? Continue reading