This poem is deticated to Stephanie Nicole, because her unique art inspires me.
Balloons
This is not a love story. This is not an allegory about me. This is not a love song telling a sob-story about the way the world should be. This is not a love story. This is not a tale of epic romance. I can’t stress that enough. I’ve had enough serendipitous chance and all that mushy stuff. This is not a love story. This is just a story about love. Free from fine and frill.
Once upon a lonely time, there was a lovely little boy who loved a little girl.
He saw her right before summer. It was the first day of the last week, before the end school. She was soaking in the sun, and lay, sun dress on and a warm towel under her, reading by a pool. He was then, like all boys, little more than a fool. He just stood there, mouth open, chest bare, with wet hair, staring at her lying there, like he didn’t have a clue.
What does one do? I have often wondered. When you’re under that spell, you don’t even feel like you. You’re just taken in, mesmerized. And the little boy was too. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, or fight the urge to feel. It was an overwhelming, desire to touch her, to see if she was really real. For him, she was like art. Perfect art. Her diamond eyes, flushed cheeks, soft golden hair, all of her…Art. I get that. I once knew a little girl who could melt my heart with just her smile.
And all at once, the little boy was struck with a need to know that little girl, a need to talk to her, a need to hold her. He couldn’t resist it. But doubt persisted. What would a little girl like her want with a boy like him? He was nothing special. He was nothing fine. But the urge for her insisted. He couldn’t just let her go. The simple fact that he existed was all she had to know. And so, brain aching, pulse racing, he did the first thing that came to his mind. He blew up a little blue balloon and tied it to a rhyme.
Blue is for the sky above,
the biggest thing I know
To compare it to my simple love
is foolishness, and so…
Blue will be for the time I’ll spend
just knowing that your real
and wishing I had a friend like you
to teach me how to feel.
Then the boy pushed that little blue balloon across the pool toward the girl, a smile on his face wider and more radiant than any I have ever seen. And with that beam, he turned and ran. He was too scared to look back. He couldn’t stand the fact that she never would, never could be interested in a boy like him and would forget him just like that. But the little boy wouldn’t forget, couldn’t forget her. And every time after that, when he saw that she was down, he left her a little balloon and rhyme to wipe away her frown.
Blue was for the sky above.
White was for the snow.
Red was for a heart of love
That brings a Yellow glow.
Green was for the simplest thing,
a life of growth and change.
With Violet like a flower in spring,
her beauty without age.
They were all of them, like pages from his heart. Each simple rhyme a piece of him, as if he had torn himself apart and handed her his hope. And even though each note hit its mark and every balloon would warm the little girls heart, he was much to shy to ever allow himself be apart of her happiness. Try as he might, he could never sum up the courage to encourage her face to face. Instead, he would turn away, smiling that simple, soulful grin. Praying that somewhere inside of her, she too was part of him.
As the days turned into weeks and the months turned into years, I watched him hold her little heart through happiness and tears. Through every emotion and explosion of thought that she had, the little boy was always right there waiting for a chance to make her glad.
Soon enough, after enough time had past, the little boy began to turn into a man. And as he matured and learned the way the world works, he began to wonder if perhaps his love was all part of some greater plan. He began to wonder if he had a shot with the beautiful girl after all. I mean, after all, why not? Sure, he still wasn’t some playboy, or boy genius, but he loved the little girl with all of his heart. That is one of the few things in life I’ve ever know for sure. That honest little boy loved his little girl. He loved her for real, more than anything else on earth. He loved her with a love so pure that it defied every lie I’ve ever let myself believe about life and self-worth.
He loved her.
So, he would have to face the biggest fear he knew. He had to tell her how he felt, despite insecurity and everything else. He had finally thought it through.
It was the first day of the last week before the end of school. He caught her by her locker. Their eyes locked. My head began to swirl. He was staring straight into the eyes of his beautiful little girl. But she looked away quickly, and ran head down, as if she were in a rush. She moved perfectly straight through the main hall, away from it all, out toward the bus. The little boy followed. He had waited too long to miss an opportunity like this.
He hollered, “Wait!”
She stopped and waited.
“Please. Please, listen to me. Please, listen just for a moment. I won’t take up much of your time.”
The little girl turn toward him, head cocked to one side, face expressionless.
The little boy continued, “I don’t know how to say this…and I’m super nervous…I’ve been dreaming about this day my whole life. I guess I’ve always been too scared to make it happen…to scared that I would screw it up…but here it goes…
I’m no one special. I don’t have much to offer anyone. I know that. But, I’ve been on the outside, watching you for a very long time, and I can honestly say that I have never known anyone who is as beautiful and kind as you are in every way. I know you don’t really know me, and I’m not even sure what this means—but the thing is—I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re on my mind, all the time. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t do anything without think about you. It’s stupid stuff too, like what you’re going to eat for breakfast—what you’re going to wear to school. It’s like I’m obsessed. And maybe that’s good, or maybe that’s bad. Or, maybe I am just a freak. But all I really know is this; I want to get to know you. With all my heart, I just want to talk to you. I just want to have the chance to have such an amazing person—a person like you—in my life. So please, please give me a shot, despite the way this looks. Let me take you out to lunch, or coffee, or just let me walk you home. I don’t care, just so long as you’re their. That is all that matters. Please, please. It would be such an honor, just to carry your books.”
His plea was heart-wrenching. So beautiful and heartfelt that it was suffocating. I waited, heart racing for a response from the little girl. And to my surprise, even though the little girl’s eyes never waivered from the face of the little boy, at first she said nothing. She just stared…Then quickly said the only word I feared.
“Thanks.”
And just as suddenly, to my dismay, without a second glace back, the little girl turned her back and walked away.
I was speechless as I watched her go. And felt vilest hate I have ever known for a little girl who could treat the heart of a little boy in such an unfeeling way. And I was about to cry to the him. I was about to tell him to curse her. I was about to let him know for sure that only an evil person would ever deserve her. But then, I stopped, unsure of what to do. The little boy had his hand in the air, and for a moment, I was perfectly sure that he was going to curse her too. But as I wiped the tears from my eyes, and my thoughts began to clear, I shook my head in wonder, too amazed to think my hate through. He wasn’t cursing the little girl. He did not even cry. He didn’t give way to angers pull or believe a senseless lie. No. He just blew that little girl, his lovely heart, his lonely world, a gentle kiss good bye.
I didn’t know what to make of it. I didn’t know what to say. There is nothing more beautifully heart breaking in this life, than watching a broken hearted little boy wave his love away…as if to say…“Would I? Could I? Should I dare? Love a little girl who never knew I was there? My heart is like a balloon on a string. I’ve learned to let it go. Sure, a kiss would be lovely thing, but deep down I’ll always know. That love is more than diamond rings and wedding with their show. It’s more than frills and fancy things, and every lovely thing I know. And so, you can fly from me if you want to. I will not make you stay. I can not change the whirling wind or wish my love away. I can only pray that with some luck you know that come what may, I’m waiting patient with open arms for you to come back to me one day. Because, despite your flighty heart my art, this truth will always be: even if I have none of you, you’ll always have all of me.”
The End
I don’t know what the future holds for me. I don’t know much about love or life or the certainty of happiness. I don’t know how beautiful sacrifice can be. But certainly, I do know this… Regardless of logic and sanity, despite the logistics of vanity, in face of the limits of his humanity, that little boy loved that little girl.
And it’s haunting me. This story, this prove, daunting to me. How can I, knowing this truth, ever trust and love a girl? How can I believe that I am enough? Is this kind of love even real? Could it ever be? Can an emotion that only I feel ever be as true to her as it is to me? Or, maybe that’s crazy. Maybe it’s all insane. Maybe this pain of loneliness will break me, and make me a better man.
But the truth is, I do not believe in fairy tales. I will not trust in tears. I know deep down I could never let her go. My fragile heart is full of fear…That maybe this heart ache will take me away from here. Take me to a lonely world of somehow and somewhere. Where in my heart break, I’m still standing there with that little boy, watching that little girl walk away from me. And thinking, “Dear God, it’s not fair, what a one sided thing this screwed up dream called love can be.”
So as you can see,
This is not a love story. This is not an allegory about me. This is not a love song telling a sob-story about the way the world should be.
This is not a love story.
This is just a thought,
a wish,
a dream,
a simple prayer.
That some where in this lonely world,
there is a lovely little boy
who truly loves
a little girl.