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Do they have a rehab program
to get over those people
you can't let go?

Those who sink into your veins
like a hypodermic needle,
momentarily filling you with hope.

Hope for a new life.
Hope for acceptance.
Hope for unconditional love.

Is there a way to recover
from the dreams that are lost
when hope is taken away?

When the drug is removed
and the world settles back
to dull shades of gray and brown.
If you don't choose something
you will have nothing at all.
The world will pass by,
another fifteen years gone,
and you will wonder why
you didn't choose differently today.
You will mourn lost love,
lament lost opportunity,
wonder at passing chance.
You will ask yourself why you're alone,
why you don't live
where you said you would live,
or have a catalog of adventures
over which to reminisce.
And in the end, it all came down
to one word: Fear.
Fear of choosing the wrong love,
the wrong house,
the wrong job,
the wrong city,
the wrong restaurant for dinner...
If it had been struck from your vocabulary,
if I had never heard it come from your lips,
you might find your path to happiness.
But you can never rest easy knowing
that you had too many options.
You're on the phone with me
I'm on the phone with you
In two separate houses
In two separate rooms

I hear your mattress creak beneath you
and you hear mine
Our groans are  a weird harmony
over the telephone line

You go silent for a time
all of you I know is the sound of your breath
and then it is my turn
as my mind spins and my fever burns

"Did you take your medicine?"
You ask me, before I have the chance to ask you.
"Yes...did you?"

And of all the things we have shared
I wonder aloud
Why must we have both gotten Lyme Disease
At the exact same time?
Not much of a poem, but written from the trenches, as it were!
I walk behind you a step or two
and I gather the broken pieces of your heart
as you drop them along the way.
I shall make something beautifulof them,
I tell myself.
I shall add them to my own and,
together, what had been two fragile lives
will be made into one beautiful mosaic.
But the pieces you drop,
one by one,
start falling to the ground in rapid succession.  
I pick them up
but drop them again,
and with them,
the pieces of my own heart
that I hold in my other hand.
There is just too much
for my two little hands to hold.
Soon I carry all that is yours,
but not enough to repair what is broken,
and that which was mine is scattered about
in a trail behind me.
I wish to turn back,
to return to that path,
to retrieve what I have lost,
but you keep moving on and so must I.
There is only you,
who will not take your broken heart from my hands,
and only me who is left empty
and searching for that which has been
lost along the way.
I waited for you and you waited for me
years and years we had spent
wondering when the other would come along.

Our love was predestined,
planned for us by the unseen creator
and now we come close to making good on His design.

Somewhere close at hand, in a town, in this place we love
there is a little house
that will one day hold our dreams.

Our home was predestined,
planned for us by the unseen creator
and now we come close to making good on His design.

I see you there, in this place yet to come
our children at your feet,
the culmination of our dreams, of our love.

And our children are predestined,
planned for us by the unseen creator,
and we come close to making good on His design.

But I love you, today, tomorrow and always,
you are all things to me,
and the greatest fulfillment of my dreams.

For our dreams were predestined,
planned for us by the unseen creator,
and we come close to making good on His design.
I put my hand out the window
wave after wave of summer air
rolling under and over my finger tips
dipping up and down with the unseen current

You sing along, under your breath,
to the song on the radio
your feet in brown socks
propped up on the dash

Your arm is around my shoulder
and we drive through the clear night
my head leaning closer to your shoulder
as we turn down the dirt road to your house

The crack and pop of gravel
under the wheels of the car
punctuated by the crack of limbs
randomly strewing across the drive

We park and turn the car off;
I lean into you, the warmth of your arm
drawing me in as your lips touch
the crown of my head

I kick my feet out the window
laying back against your chest
and we rest in this manner
knowing that, soon, this night must come to an end.
The worst case scenario
is that you will leave
and I will never see you again.

The worst case scenario
is the only one I can imagine.

Perhaps I will be surprised.

But why is it
that my worst case scenario
is your best?

You do not process these things
as I do.

But, whatever happens, I love you still.
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