I weave these ribbons between the hollows of my bones, sewing together the frayed flesh that you stripped bare in my pursuit of you. If I replace my heart with a Cuckoo clock, and my mind with a mocking bird, then maybe I'll sleep during these fitful nights of uncertainty.
The worst part is when I lie in bed at night, and I have to stop myself from thinking about a (our) future. I catch myself, then cross my wrists over my chest, like a corpse, to protect my heart.
I am assembling a chain, you see. No matter if its fine and as insubstantial as air. Each moment builds on the next, a determined effort to move forward, to forget you. This link? I'll forget the exact blue of your eyes, the next the smell of your skin. With each link you'll fade into a hazy recollection until you become just another number, another face in the crowd of the countless who have gone to die in the crowded room (of my heart). The irony, of course is that each loop is crafted with the very thing I wish to forget. And as I try to forget you I inevitably remember you; the blue fire of your kiss. It's then that the chain shatters in my hands, forcing me to rebuild it over and over again only to rupture in my hands once more, tormenting me to madness.
I take this dilapidated notebook everywhere, even the bathtub. I like to let the hot water open my pores, my mind, my heart. Between the furious scribbling I set it on my chest, waiting for the next verse. The weight of my words presses me deep into the basin, the gravity of 10,000 nights, and I'm thankful the water is shallow, so I don't succumb to the burden.
I'd joke and call you my octopus because you'd engulf me in a flurry of limbs whenever I came near, pulling me seductively toward your mouth. I was happy to be your prey, to get lost in the tangle of your tentacles - another love blinded fool - I had no idea that you'd feast on my soft innards, then spit out the bones when you were through.
We'll chance upon each other, some day or evening a long time from now. By then my heart will have scabbed over, but still the edges are tender. You'll be excited - "it's been so long!" - but I'll be full of dread, caution. I'll regard you coolly, just enough detachment to make you unsure, ill at ease. I'll make some cutting remark, veiled in subtlety, then excuse myself from your company. You'll mull the comment over, repeating it in your mind, puzzling together its meaning. And slowly, you'll reach the soul of it and know that I'm still bleeding. You'll watch me from across the room, and I'll know by its focused heat, But I'm too old and too tired to play the games of young girls. You won't see me feigning laughter or pretending to flirt with some random person. I'll simply be me, as even keeled and placid as you knew I was. It will remind you of those quiet moments we shared, tangled in each other, Doing nothing but marveling at the miracle of love, the wonder of eachother's breathing. You'll then be in touch, and I'll hesitate but answer; no sense of preservation. You'll apologize for it all and I'll give you a halfhearted, watery kinda smile. (Actions, of course, speak louder than words and I'm simply mirroring your past indifference.) You'll realize too late, like they all do, that you made a huge mistake. But it'll make no difference to me because you had broken something inside me That day, way back, when I stared out of the window, watching a squirrel as You stood above me and recited a litany of why you didn't want me. And maybe then you'll long for me the way I did those many months, The wind blowing through the hollow in your chest, whistling past the ragged edges. And then you'll understand, it dissolved that warm October as I sat in silence. You'll know it's too late for me, for you, for us. It's just now that you're catching up.
It was the jolt of recognition that unnerved me when our eyes met for the first time. The Universe held its breath and I didn't feel homeless anymore.
Had I known it was going to be the last time that we would kiss, I would've given it everything I had and.... Bit your fucking lip off.
cigarette in hand,
offering to share
away from me
with a boyish
my eyebrow, arched,
a silent question
you come near
my blood pressure
You held my hand as we drove through the desert, the parched night air like a ribbon that tangled in our hair. We stopped for a drink in what could've been a ghost town, had it not been for the neon lights wound around and strung between the lampposts. I got something to share with you, a drink, delighted at the thought of our lips sharing the same edge; it was almost as if we were kissing. When I returned to the car you were standing with three other girls - one who was barefoot, her toes blackened by the asphalt. I joined you, but hesitated because I understood that we were in that no man's land between something and absolutely nothing at all. But you somehow sensed my trepidation and slid a reassuring arm around my waist, pulling me close to you and kissing my lips with tenderness. It was in that moment I loved you because I knew I was safe.