You were a thing of beauty I had long known. Stood there tenacious, you didn't need anyone, you were like me. I was bewitched, magnetized by your presence. I sometimes wonder why I was not the one person who could capture your heart, make you come alive, make you see the long ignored burning embers that you held deep within. As I look past the artificial grandeur I see your despondency, all of the wounds covered up with a bandage of fortitude. A counterfeit passion that you have fooled yourself into believing. I realize that I was trying to make you something you were not. I saw the you I wanted to see as opposed to the you in front of me. Lost in the false bravado. I do not blame you, I blame myself. Perhaps when I pull back the curtain of pessimism there's this annoying optimist who made you the everything I had been searching for, made me senseless, made me delusional.
You will never know any of this. There are millions of you out there. You're all the same. ...and I am always drawn to you. Sometimes I get angry at the road, sometimes I yell at it, curse it... Why must I ride alone? Where is that wild soul to ride beside me? Then I meet you and am reminded why I ride alone...it's better that way.
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