May 29, 2012
Living in Nostalgia, WW
We got back to your place late and the night was mild. We were restless and you busied yourself making drinks. An old friend from a past life called me and I left you in the kitchen and went to the balcony. You let me stay out alone and all the while, I gushed about you. You watched me pace and smile from the kitchen and I know you think I wouldn’t see you. I will never forget that. I sat down on the cool cement, finished my beer and looked up to count. I have always counted stars when I’m out late at night. There is a comfort in knowing that winking darkness is wherever I am, there to bear witness.
As I hung up the phone, you were there. You had been there and I hadn’t noticed. I felt a rush of nerves wondering what you had heard me say. Hoping you heard most of it and that it gave you proof that you were so important. You sat down behind me, legs stretched out against my legs. Your arms wrapped me to you, pressing my back into your chest and I never wanted those seconds to end. We talked into the early morning, about nothing and everything, and when I started to doze against you, you helped me stand and led me inside. We slept topless that night, and from then on. I used to joke in my head that we were like a Calvin Klein commercial. I loved your skin on my skin. I loved strength and length of your arms cradling my bare back and the span of your hand curling around the back of my neck. There was sweetness in your fingers, twisting my hair around and around them. Like you were tying us together. I remember your scars and you telling me the story of how you got them. Knowing then that it was part of the reason you lived your life the way you did. Knowing then that it would always separate us. I traced those scars, memorized every smooth dip in my fingerprints. You held my hand as I learned your body and you kissed me then with tenderness that has yet to be matched. I went down on you. You said my name when you climaxed, hands fisting in my hair. I swallowed you and vowed that I would never let you walk out of my life. I wanted things to be like this for us, for as long as they could be. Nights like that became sort of ritual for us. On some, we fooled around; on many, we just fell blissfully asleep on each other. Yours is the only weight I never minded. We didn’t actually make love until all night before you moved. I think I was hopeful that it would make you stay. That somehow, giving me to you in that way would make it apparent that I loved you…but in hindsight, I think the opposite happened. In finally crossing that threshold, we became like everyone else. The charm was gone and so were so were we.
And so were you…
I moved on because I had to. Knowing there would never ever be another me like the one you had. Begging it not to be true and denying it as it was happening. I thought everyday about coming to you. Just vanishing from here in the night and appearing on your stoop someday. There was something so beautifully, painfully simple about the spark between us. About me being alone in knowing some of your secrets. I was under your thick skin and I loved living there. I wanted to be there again. I still think about it.
The sad story is… we don’t exist anymore. We stopped existing that morning you dropped me off at the subway station when you hugged me and I smiled, we said our see you arounds and I walked away.
I have seen you twice since you came back. The first time was just like all those nights from our other life. My head on your chest, looking skyward. Our bellies pressed tight to each other, arms gripping (grasping?). Talking a mile a minute. Laughter. I didn’t wash that cardigan for 2 weeks, keeping that night alive as long as your scent lasted in it. And the taste of you I had almost forgotten. In walking away this time, there was hope.
The second time was quick and cold. It had grown obvious now, how very different we had become. And I had to leave you in your ivory tower by the water. I stepped into the night then, knowing that the end from so long ago was real. But I still had to force my steps forward. I realize I am mourning the loss of years now. And feeling that fate has stripped us of opportunity that was never meant to be.
May 15, 2012
Then. Again.
I stopped sending you pictures.
And for you, I have disappeared.
There are no more acts of desperation
I can force to keep you near.
I suppose the argument is
that I could never claim you anyway.
Wild horses can’t be tamed and all that.
You made that clear as crystal
since you rode back in on yours.
Our story plays on broken records.
I’m not feeling sorry for myself here now,
don’t make that mistake.
Not sorry either that I got as close as I did,
then and now.
Or that I never spent a second with regret.
You mean more to me than you will ever recognize.
That reason alone is why I have to tell you goodbye.
Though I can still only whisper it.
And that may be all it ever amounts to.
We are grains of sand,
tossed haphazardly by the wayside.
But we landed together,
then and now.
I suppose the tide is rolling out now.
I suppose I’ll get used to the idea again.
The idea of life without you.
I pretend daily that I did it once before.
But I will always be the first to break
and come back for you.
Searching for your hungry ghost.
Hoping that you are, in fact, hungry.
And that I can be your only fill.
But if you do still care, don’t ever let me know.
My heart holds on for far too long.
May 8, 2012
Wash away the Cycle
The closer I get to the bottom of this bottle,
the farther away I find myself from you.
Until the end comes.
And with it, you flood back in.
Filling the emptiness cheap wine can not.
But these oceans filter in and out of
cheap black/white toned sand
and waking from this means
forgetting
And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Another unsuccessful attempt
at drowning memories
and you along with them.
But you know what they say:
“The captain always goes down with the ship”
So I’ll
take your heart down to the
bottom
of this sea
raging
and heartless
you have become
Tonight I suffer myself
and desire for you
and for your silver tongue.
I should be resting in the crook of you arm.
Our fingers laced.
My hair as your pillow.
Your eyes as my soul
Following the broken compass
as it points north
to a shallow grave
empty but resplendent with memories
of a summer spent in motion
Two voices in harmony, seducing the night.
Forgetting the lights hung around our necks
And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Always keeping my breath stopped short
when I’m trying to think of what to say.
All the while I wonder if it’s even worth saying
anything at all.
The problem being: there are no words for you.
Ripped from the ending of Jack and Jill
but the difference being
you fell
and I waited at the top of the mountain
painted blue with listlessness
softly
in the darkness of separation
I felt alone
you tumbling
but stopped
The tale of you and I has turned its final page
and in the twisted ending, I see
my photographic memory
has tricked me most of the way.
Rain has the slightest touch of those
remembered against
those misplaced and the trace I feel
around my broken heart
reminds me of a day last Christmas
when we were all sitting around the tree
but the presents were marked for
the next-door
neighbors
That’s when I stumbled.
I thought we were more.
That you were more.
And better.
So thank you for that.
It will be all I can bear to ascend the tower we built
so I have the best view to watch you
ride off for the second time.
Picturesque like a drive-in only your
eyes make the screen seem
unmemorable placed against the
backdrop of a gray sky
stuck in a car with you
across my lap
looking at your lips
simply, I fall
and begin again
with a satisfaction so pure
as to let you go
intimately, before the sun rises
The last time.
I will lace my fingers into my own.
To catch errant tears.
And with them, I will paint pictures of us
on my flesh and gray matter
and into nonexistence.
You can forget a memory
but your body can’t hold back
the tears
Now, one more for the road, lover…
You wouldn’t have it any other way.
It’s true; I wouldn’t.
A collaboration with Vernon Ross, his words in italics. You can find other works by him here:
http://vernonrossmd.tumblr.com
May 7, 2012
Cycle
The closer I get to the bottom of this bottle,
the farther away I find myself from you.
Until the end comes.
And with it, you flood back in.
Filling the emptiness cheap wine can not.
And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Another unsuccessful attempt
at drowning memories
and you along with them.
Tonight I suffer myself
and desire for you
and for your silver tongue.
I should be resting in the crook of you arm.
Our fingers laced.
My hair as your pillow.
Two voices in harmony, seducing the night.
But with you around, my glass
will always be half empty.
And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Always keeping my breath stopped short
when I’m trying to think of what to say.
All the while I wonder if it’s even worth saying
anything at all.
The problem being: there are no words for you.
The tale of you and I has turned its final page
and in the twisted ending, I see
my photographic memory
has tricked me most of the way.
That’s when I stumbled.
I thought we were more.
That you were more.
And better.
So damn you for that.
It will be all I can bear to ascend the tower we built
so I have the best view to watch you
ride off for the second time.
The last time.
I will lace my fingers into my own.
To catch errant tears.
And with them, I will paint pictures of us
on my flesh and gray matter
and into nonexistence.
Now, one more for the road, lover…
You wouldn’t have it any other way.
April 24, 2012
A Great Band Name
The wet scent of earth rose up against our slick skin while
the strum of your digits against my veins echoed sweetly, into the darkness.
What a melancholy song, you tuning my heart.
Until heartbreaks and the ache floods.
Quick, remember me a time when I was uncluttered and clean.
A time when my eyes could spy the way
without your fingers outstretched restraint.
The years have passed.
Now apparent in the lines my smile pushes out.
I can still drive by and pick out your apartment.
My hand prints are there, pressed in steam.
And I knew those eaves so well back then…
You found me with ease
in the thrumming of your quickened pulse, drunk on lust.
And maybe now, it’s you that is missing.
Ask me, I’m at the ready.
Knowing the chase for the unattainable is a long road.
But once I’m in your atmosphere, there is no spin control.
And I’d relish the vertigo if it meant being under you.
I never minded your flesh and dirt under my nails.
