These thoughts were all forced from my head by an incident that occurred earlier this evening.
She touched me. It was a simple touch. She reached for my back, while walking past. It was quick, lasted one or two seconds, and was over. But here I am, still pondering.
She touched my back, and I flinched. Not out of dislike or discomfort, but instead out of a strange combination between my body recognizing the familiar hand and my mind processing the contact as something that might lead to trouble. I often would wonder how people end up participating in round number two with a former love, thinking that it doesn't make sense. Isn't it simply destined to fail again? I would easily state that I could never see myself doing the same thing. And yet, right now, I realize how it could be possible.
Our bodies bond to other bodies, especially after spending so much time together. It's been years since she's touched me in any way that could be considered intimate. Well, actually about 1 year, 8 months and however many days, but who's counting. The bottom line is that, even 10 years from now, I will still remember her touch. After so many years together, I'd think it odd if I didn't. Granted, it might not have the impact that it once did, but I'm not naive enough to say that it doesn't affect me. But my feelings about her touch are not what this post is about.
This post is about the fact that I am still connected to her, even though we are no longer together. Which I am finally understanding and accepting. I make really strong connections with the women who come into my life, even if these women don't remain in my life. I'm trying to figure out what this really says about me. It's like I break myself into many pieces, trying to pack as much of myself into each piece, and I give those pieces away. There is a piece of me in ___burg, NC, that I will never get back. Not that I want it back. This woman that I speak of captured the essence of my ideal companion from the moment we met, and loved me unconditionally because, in me, she'd found everything she wanted. We fought hard to build something beautiful, weathered far too many trials together, and through it all, I was captivated by her fortitude and spirit. Unfortunately, my restless nature would never allow me to fully reciprocate her love. But those were some of the greatest moments of my life, producing my life's one great accomplishment, so I will cherish them forever.
But I realize I don't merely do this piecing, for lack of a better word, in a physical or emotional sense. Right now, as I type this, I am well aware that there is a piece of me in ___boro, NC, with a woman I have never physically met. This might seem a bit odd. We have talked for hours, on and off, conversed by mail, email, and text, and perhaps even had mental exchanges from miles away. But we have never been in the same physical place at the same time. Yet I imagine that our souls traversed together long ago, sharing intricate details of ourselves with one another. All the way back, in the beginning, and it was certainly good. She has a magnificent way of lifting my spirits and we are akin in such a plethora of ways, that often it seems surreal. I smile, thankful for her friendship and grateful for how she constantly allows me escape, into the beautiful world of "what if?".
These two women are not the only ones who have ever been given a piece of me. I've been relinquishing fragments of myself for as long as I can remember. While these two take precedent, simply because they have the most significantly sized portions, there were others, all given their parts. Some smaller than others, but all strong in their own way. And all of these pieces equal some type of connection. These connections linger, long after everything else is gone.
Currently, in ___ham, NC, there is another woman, who, if I wasn't already broken into so many pieces, could probably easily have me whole. She is beautiful, physically and mentally, has a smile that only wants to make me smile, always makes it known that she cares for me, and only wants to matter. While she matters far more than she may ever realize, there is a part of me that is afraid that all I can offer her is in pieces. There is a restlessness in me that has never been calmed, and I fear I will let it lead me. When I am with her, I celebrate each second without hesitation. I am trying to enjoy as many moments as I can. I don't want yet another idle connection, lessening with distance and time. Because I'd rather have her in my life, that not have her there at all. Knowing this much has to mean something.
I don't know why I split myself so easily, forever sharing only just enough. A piece, no matter how substantial in size or depth, will never be more than just a piece. I want to give my all. I'd at least like to feel like I could.
Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet
