We don’t smile anymore
when we see each other
like reunited halves of a kinship;
like children keeping a secret from adults,
trying not to laugh.
More than anything else in my life lost,
I miss that.
It was once exciting, not knowing
if yours was the same as mine
or simply the gaiety of suspicion before the find.
Now it’s come to this,
and seeing you just makes me God damn sad.
Reminding me of everything I wanted to happen
that won’t.
Fantasies I want to put down
like a pet in suffering, but can’t.
The way I imagined we would share a bed;
two side sleepers aligned breast to back,
legs entwined, hands laced,
my forearm glued to your abdomen by beads of sweat,
your insomnia cured by my heart thumping like a relaxation tool.
The way I would wake up first just to worship your face at rest,
the way astronomers study space through a lens.
The first time we’d make love,
losing an entire weekend
like one of your blackouts without ingesting alcohol;
making up for the last year we were too scared to say
three little words
like bloody Mary chanted in front of a mirror with the lights off.
Silent prayers I’ve ritually whispered before falling asleep,
that manifest into dreams I want to live inside like a cocoon
until just one comes true.
I don’t want to let any of it go,
I don’t want to accept that no one’s been listening.
I’d give up my soul, before hope.
We don’t joke and call each other names
the way people flirt when they don’t know how else to begin.
We don’t share our lives like normal friends,
don’t check in, never go anywhere,
you’ve never been to my place and I don’t even know where you live.
“I like when people don’t know where I am”
you’ve said, but maybe you just haven’t decided to let me in.
“I tested you”
you revealed, before telling me anything real about yourself
since the first time we met.
How many more do I have to pass
before you turn off the electric fence?
I already feel like I’ve died
trying to earn your trust.
Even Christ got over the sins of the wretched.
It once was challenging,
running after your heart
the way you race through obstacles in the mud to feel alive.
Now it’s come to this
and every word I write leaves me feeling more and more like a loser
for coveting that which is not mine.
Now, I keep my phone in another room
so I won’t send drunk texts that make you laugh in acronyms,
but colors me embarrassed the next morning.
I stop for weeks at a time to see if you’ll take some initiative,
throw me a bone simple as “hey” or “what’s up?”in the interim
like a bread crumb, like a reason to hold on when my fingers have lost circulation
but, you don’t.
Every stretch of silence a dagger in my side, I saw coming
but took, too stubborn to move.
The textbook example assuring,
She’s just not that into you.
I burned instead of reading.
I don’t make you paper flowers
or leave movies in the desk drawer for you to borrow without asking.
No more CD’s in your mailbox
that play like three little words vocalized a dozen different ways
without me ever, officially, saying it once.
No candy, tokens, or assorted sentimental trinkets
left without reason or expectations
to be accepted without explanation
that might otherwise suggest you feel one way or another
we both know you’d rather not.
It’s better that I just return to my empty bed,
sleeping on my side with pillows in place of a body
that is spoken for while I dream in a fair world.
It used to be a question, your behavior.
Now it’s just an answer I don’t want to hear.
Two words I read across your face
every time you avoid those three, more dilated in my eyes
than pupils ambushed by light.
I want to re-write the script.
I want to repaint the wall every time you go home to her or him.
I give up.
I quit you.
I’m through waiting.
Three words could be anything,
until I see you again.
We don’t smile at each other anymore.
We look down and away like strangers in the street,
like friends that haven’t spoken in years over some petty difference.
When I see you now, I feel like I have nothing left to lose.
It takes the restraint of chains, shame, and feelings unreciprocated
for me not to shout “fuck it!” and scream the truth.
I love you!!!
I love you…
so
fucking
much
I don’t want to breathe again until you’ve been told. _________________ shemovesme.wordpress.com
Fri May 11, 2012 6:57 pm
melons Site Admin
Joined: 06 Feb 2004
Posts: 2371
Outstanding. This struck a chord with me. I feel the rawness, the vulnerability, the hopelessness of a lost dream.
A great write.
Luv'n'hugs,
Melx
Sat May 12, 2012 12:10 am
aidyl
Joined: 11 Nov 2007
Posts: 173
Location: Trinidad
You mirror my heart Brach. It was like you got into my mind and read my thoughts. Your words are like Roberta Flack's lyrics from the song Killing Me Softly. The lyrics 'strumming my pain with your fingers, singing my life with your words'. It is like you were on the walls of my life during the last 4 months of 2011 quietly listening to the conversations and reading the emails between my lady and me.
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