Jack and Diane

Sometimes I really miss Devon. Not because of what we could've been..as much as for what we were.  Before it all got complicated he was a friend to me, someone who'd shown a respect in what was on my mind and in my heart, and he'd done so without expectations. We'd bonded mentally and creatively, and every moment was spent literally reaching through a screen to touch one another with dreams and ideas.

Ohh, how I miss what Devon made me feel. In a word, alive. For I was the caged dove, and he the white owl that flew to my window sill one misty night to set me free.

Long after our dream had ended, I sit here feeling cold and misunderstood.  It is only here that I might express my sadness. Devon can never know that I returned to Jack only to be locked out as I had been in the past. I am happier to observe love than to participate.  In a dream a few months ago, I'd met Devon again and had run towards him, feeling like the giddy girl I had been when we met. I had been so lost, had given up on dreams and had learned to exist in a dry husk that was myself and his heart had awakened me.

In this dream, we must have been 10 or so years older..and I recall clasping my outstretched arms back around myself in time to appear a proper lady..because I'd noticed his lovely wife beside him. 

Just like that I knew our time had passed. It took a dream to make me realize how I'd always been late to every important event in my life, and finally I had missed out on one that could have changed my life..meeting Devon.

Jack's secretive nature has pushed me into a shell that I have no desire to leave.  (Diane puts down her pen). I have no desire to write, because I have no desire to feel anymore.

12:35 AM - July 1, 2010