The One...written for Nez 6 years ago

I wrote this for Nez six years ago when we first started dating...before her divorce was final. Poetic, with tons of meaning to me. I don't think anyone has ever read this except the two of us...until now.

The One
by: Chad Miller

On the dismal pathways of righteousness I have walked alone for ages, pondering why the world had dealt me the death card time and time again. Lying in the dark, night after painful night wondering why this has come to be, where am I going, and when will it all come to a screeching end. Once, I knew her. A carefree spirit, longing for companionship, cherishing every adventure, gazing to the horizon. Things change.
If only I’d known then what I knew now, the story of my life.
Could I give up pieces of my being, return again to the days of my youth and do it all completely different? Where would we be, and would it have even possibly bettered the lives of our significant others from our past? These are the questions that haunt the lonely. These are the inquiries of a troubled mind at midnight, all alone in the echoing darkness of our existence. I can’t help it, I love her. She’s my muse. The reason I breathe the life giving essence of this world that I, not so long ago, would have said goodbye to, gladly I might add, in exchange for front row seats to my oblivion. As I watch her laying before me, a tender child in the shell of a goddess, clutching a memory that was sewn together with the promises of commitment, I know that I can be the one to save her. The one that will return her to her former glory, and allow her to run free in the mental fields of her youth. I can do this, don’t give up, here’s my hand, I won’t let go.

But that demon, that influential pull of curiosity is drawing her back. Unanswered mysteries, what could have been, what will be, linger in a troubled mental ocean in her mind. Am I strong enough? Will she grip me tighter, or simply fall to her demise? As she sails into the stormy night towards her destination, I stand alone on the shore of heartache. With each passing moment I grieve as she ventures closer to the tempest of her sea of depression. She glances back at me through wind torn brown hair, and gives me her angelic smile, like only she can. She’ll return, I know. Love prevails. I’ll be waiting.