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 |  a journal in short bursts that might occasionally even rhyme |
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I am not much for journal keeping. So consider this less a recitation of daily life and more of an attempt to capture a mood, or moment, as it strikes my fancy. For the easily offended, I should add the disclaimer that there is a fair amount of profanity, sex and/or politics. The words are stuck, lodged uncomfortably between hands that don't touch and the rush of cold air ghosting between lips that won't kiss A stuttering cough to dislodge them, wet and shiny with the mucous secretion of heartache, and they tumble forth, end over end, before you |
| there was a pause not the oh-my-g-g-god kind or the oh-for-heaven’s-sake kind but the contemplative kind where you know and I know this conversation is in it for the long haul this particular pause a posting inn time to dismount stretch our legs tidy up exchange tired nags for fresh horses gather our bearings before moving along |
dueling telephone conversations (one-sided as they often are) hard to ignore and painful to listen to (with his honey this and her township that) with no effort made to modulate tone or topic to the dictates of a communal space the burr-whiz whine of the fax machine in grating musical accompaniment to the click-clack of keyboard keys and the thud-crash of file folders (dusty and crumbling with age) hitting a desk already buried under the weight of its siblings |
I remember the day it changed, the day he went from being that guy, a friend of a friend, to a being wanted but unattainable. Now when he speaks my body shakes, distracted by visions of his lips on mine, whispering naughty nothings betwixt fevered fondlings. My flesh aflame when he enters the room, nerves go into overdrive from the effort not to touch, not to beg, not to plead. In my wildest moments I convince myself the indifference is feigned: his smiles, his looks, his laugh are an admission, an acknowledgement, signs for me alone to interpret. Mostly his indifference enervates me past the point of reason. I have become that girl, the one who finds excuses to press myself against him and inhale his scent, the memory a cold comfort on lonely nights. Sometimes I am sure that he knows, feigned ignorance his way of letting me down gently; I am ever the fool. The tension is unbearable. I have never been more comfortable in my life with someone who wants so very little from me. I am torn; the desire to speak – take the chance that will lead to running my hands over places I have only glimpsed – wars with the delicious tension of silence – the waiting game, the nervous anticipation of seeing and not speaking. The days are empty, flatter and colder, life lived in monochrome. With one look, one word he rains colors on my world. I wish I knew how to make my image thing he falls asleep to at night and wakes up to in the morning. Afraid to try and fail, I might be more afraid not to try at all; what a viciously funny thing. |
Estoy aquí sin recurso alguno Sin ornamentación, sin elegancia Solamente yo, aquí, Una suplicante mas Con piernas hecha débil Por el miedo y la lujuria Temblorosa En tu presencia Un gesto tentativo – La mano, mía, Extendida hacia ti, Sin esperanza alguna – Caigo, arrodillada, a tus pies Mi cara torcida en Una grotesca parodia De sonrisa Llorando sin lagrimas Garganta y labios resecos Abro la boca Pidiendo perdón Pero mantengo silencio Ya no tengo las palabras Para borrar mi perfidia Para prevenir tu partida |
We met. In the soupy broth of bodies in few clothes pressed together we were breathing in drunkenness and lowered inhibitions breathing out debauchery and decadence flirtation laced with a hint of something more. The dance of two perfect strangers we executed flawlessly in the alley, preliminaries ignored in favor of the scratchiness of the wall on my back the scratches of my nails on yours. Neither of us as free as we appeared to be. A hotel room. It was all silk sheets and satin covers and champagne bubbling every which way, laved from navels and nipples. Red lights danced behind the blindfold, ankles chafed beneath velvet ropes to whispers murmurs sighs moans. Daybreak. When she called you answered. Bittersweet – chocolate tears spill from lowered eyes to the imprint of a thumb brushing gently across quavering lips. Nothing left to say that had not been said a thousand times over and done a thousand ways again. Tomorrows. Again again and again and again each time less joyful and more shameful a parody of love, I subsisted on the memories which exist in the spaces in-between the missing. |
I came back these many miles Weaving hope from fragile strands to lay upon her shores awhile A stranger to my native land Searching for that distant spark of life, of love, of laughter and of happily ever after After the bleak despair of a lifetime in exile I stood trembling in the dark Having chased phantom dreams of hearth and home To end where I began: A headlong crash into disaster to stand upon these shores alone. |
It seems ridiculous to say when I see you every day that I miss you, I love you Too needy, too greedy given the chasm of misunderstandings between us It seems hopeless to note how once extraordinary, now rote, how you became another chore When these eyes smart with tears and this blood thumps with fear at your leaving It seems folly to pray for words to make you stay when we shroud ourselves in silence Afraid to give offense by speaking commonsense though the situation is unbearable Still, with eyes bled, tongue red, I write you a love song another volley of earnest verbiage Lobbed in your direction aimed to woo you, to win you, to keep you To bring you home |
| The message was short Business-like to the point "I’ve met someone else." No apology or explanation, although either one would have been nice. And what does that mean, "I’ve met someone else?" Spoken so casually, As if saying I have to do laundry I went to buy groceries I tripped and fell into someone else Why not say, "I liked her." Or, "I fucked her." Or, "I don’t love you maybe never have, maybe never will." Or more honestly still, "I already fucked you, time for something new." That at least I could understand, would be something to retell to all our friends How to divide them? Did that never occur to you that we would have to split them somehow? Was that not reason enough to stay? Some variation of how he done me wrong How I am a victim of a scheming hussy and a conniving liar. They shake their heads and fling gratuitous insults, out of pity mostly, grateful that it was not them. Hiding their mockery behind sympathetic laughter for the girl who can’t keep a man because he met someone else. That sympathy unwelcome but a comfort, however small, since you have left me none. Now I can’t help but wonder If maybe I should have seen this coming Met someone else... Does that mean you love her or that I wasn’t enough and does it matter anymore? Amongst the scattered pieces where the answering machine used to be. |
Today I got up smiling thinking it would be a beautiful day Nothing bad can happen when I feel this great As if willful blindness could protect me from the vagaries of fate It did not last (it never does) Dreaming though I was I always remember And the day that dawned so gay quickly crumbles into dust |
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