Finally Finished..."Dead Roses"

"looking down i could see my lifeless body in the oak coffin, cold and pale, yet dressed to provide, at least to myself, such an ironic contrast that i almost laughed out loud. a slight smile on my face as if to say i had known death would provide some peace that had eluded me in life. fitted in a navy blue, double-breasted suit with silver pinstripes and a silk tie of the same color. dapper in death, i thought to myself, proud of the choice i'd made for my last wardrobe. and i had reason to be proud. i could hear the comments from the men as they passed my coffin to bid me farewell. "it's too bad", one said, "but that's a nice suit"."he was much too young", said another, "but i like what he's wearing". their words, though seemingly sincere and heartfelt, relayed an underlying shallowness to me that i would have despised, had i been a person grieving behind them in line. but i wasn't. i was laying in a box, with people crying over me, touching me, seeking closure with the person i had been. as if trying to recapture the connection that we held in our past.

i watched them all, each with their own personal perceptions of me. every man, every woman, each with their own stories and thoughts and experiences we had once shared, until i saw her. her presence seemingly like everyone else's, merely a formality yet so much more. her hands told the story of how she felt. they trembled and shook with an intensity that surprised me. i knew that we shared a connection unlike any other i had had with another person. but i never imagined that my death would have affected her so much. in life i had always tried to think of myself as a little insignificant and at my passing people would spend a day or two reflecting on their experiences with me and then resume their lives as if i never existed. but the scene before me had shattered my thinking. her tears were so genuine, they ached of sadness. her eyes screamed of desperation for the closeness we once had. i could actually feel the pain in her heart.

there was something in the way her fingers touched my face. light and feathery, the way a woman touches her lover's face while they share a passionate moment. her movement, slow and deliberate, as her hands gently left my face and clasped my own. and at that moment, everyone else faded away and only we remained....

i longed for a particular encounter when we just sat next to one another talking. it had always been easy for me to talk to her. she made me comfortable in her presence and it seemed there wasn't any subject we couldn't hold a conversation on. somehow our talk had drifted to the topic of love, things like what we felt it was and if we had ever been in love and seeing the look in her eyes ignited feelings in me that i had so desperately been trying to keep in check. she was so passionate, i was captivated by the power of her words and overwhelmed by her conviction. there was heaven in her ideas, some extraordinary concept that i had desperately been longing for, but had yet to find. every word she spoke reflected of the person i was and revealed to me that she was the woman i wanted. she continued on, resting her hand next to mine. i watched how she tapped her fingers at every conversational pause. how i wanted to take her hand into my own. to take one small step towards possibly the greatest happiness i would've ever known. but i didn't. i let insecurity consume me and i remained paralyzed to my seat.

i remembered many times when i had had an opportunity to tell her how i felt about her. there had been plenty of chances for me to let her know what she meant to me. and even though i was totally in love with her and every part of me burned for her, i never said anything, content to continue to suppress my own feelings and desires for fear of rejection. thus, dooming myself to a life of self-denial and personal loss. and the torment that came with the daily wondering of what may have been and why we never were.

so to think of such encounters was bittersweet. because they not only serve as joyous memories of events that i'd experienced in life but as painful reminders of what i had given up. or squandered. or never taken a chance on. i loved her. for the way she made me feel and how she made me want to live. in that she taught me to see the beauty in things that before had been so insignificant to me. she showed me that there were so many exquisite sights in front of me that i had been taking for granted. i loved her for all these things...i loved her.

there was heaven in her ideas. but hell wasn't me in the coffin, it was her not knowing i loved her before i got there."

sometime in '00 or '01, was writing on loose sheets of paper and wasn't dating them. just finished today.