The Ghost Of Tom Joad– Bruce Springsteen
Radioactive– Imagine Dragons
I Will Wait– Mumford & Sons
BURN IT DOWN-Linkin Park
Reflections Of My Life– The Marmalade
Sgt MacKenzie – We Were Soldiers Soundtrack with Lyrics
You are out there living your life without me, but that is just for the moment because you will return and we’ll find time to see each other. It will be soon but soon feels like forever and I would say that even if I hadn’t finished most of a bottle of wine.
Yeah, you could say that the man at the keyboard isn’t in a state to make decisions, judgement or engage in any sort of rational thought and he would say ‘fuck it’ because he can. That is just how it is right now or maybe it is because every time we are separated for any length of time it feels like someone cut out my heart and left a great hole in my chest.
A great gaping wound from which I hear the air passing through my ribs and wonder when I turned into this man who is so needy and dependent upon you but then again I hear you, feel you, sense you thinking about me and it is not because of the texts or emails. It is because you and I are a part of each other.
It is not you and it is not I, it is we.
That is how it should be described- it is we.
But we are separated now for an acceptable reason, a planned trip and I shouldn’t care but I do because right now life is unpredictable and unsteady. It is a seesaw that tips in and out of flames. I may not be dancing in the fire as I once was nor am I alone and apart but my heart hurts and my soul screams because of all those things you know about.
Because when a man tries as hard as I have to do what I have done it hurts to fall and fail. But I never lie down or give up because it is not in my nature or part of my character to do so. I keep going no matter what happens and even if all of my bones were broken I would continue because it is what I do.
He looked own at the page and rolled his eyes in disgust at what he saw. The words were awful and he wondered what the hell he was thinking.
Bartenders aren’t supposed to write stories, The pour drinks, they listen and sometimes they tell stories but they don’t write and the words he looked down upon were proof.
Several months had passed since the man in black had visited his bar and he had no idea if the woman he had spoken about as the one that got away had kept her distance or broken her vow to never see him again.
The last time I had seen him he had told me about how they were finally in the same city but that he was refusing to contact her. I told him I thought he was foolish not to reach out to her. I said you only get so many chances in life and that only a fool would pass it up.
He didn’t know me well enough to recognize that I never said things like that and that I never involved myself in my customers lives. He didn’t know me well enough to hear the anger/concern in my voice. He wasn’t going to recognize that some of the emotion stemmed from my frustration with myself.
I don’t get involved because it leads to trouble and I don’t need or want that.
Except this jackass and his story had managed to pull me in and make me do what I didn’t want to do. Had made me break my rule.
He had chased her for years, done everything he could to win her back and she had repeatedly snubbed him, told him it would never happen.
And then when he finally changed the equation by moving to the same city as her, when he finally upset the apple cart and created opportunity he turned around and showed her his back.
It made no sense to me. In the early stages of trying to catch a woman it makes sense to maintain some mystery. Makes sense to try and reel her in a bit closer by playing hard to get, but not when you already had something. You didn’t do it then because there was a good chance she would take it as being rude or interpret it literally as meaning he had no interest.
Why would we do that.
Months went by without an appearance and I started to forget again about him. Out of sight out of mind came into play and I forgot about how interested I had been in.
And then one day he walked through the doors and this time he wasn’t alone. I didn’t have to ask to know that the woman holding his hand was the mystery woman I had heard about.
They grabbed a booth -in the back, ordered a couple of beers and stayed there. Soft lighting draped across their faces left them partially lit and partially hid in the shadows.
It was like they had an open secret that they hid and yet announced.