Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Just When I Thought ...

I never want to go home. To taste the bitterness of the past that clings, no, claws the walls.  To smell the stench that burrows itself furiously inside the comforters, to a cold that never leaves. I never want to go home again, to the tears that are showered all over the floor, over my mother’s face. Tears that never seem to scrub off no matter how hard you rub your cheeks, or despite the concealer applied.  I don’t want to go home to the silence that passes through the glass-less windows. I wanted to stay calm. I want to stay here: on this corner, in this moment, in this place where laughter abounds and peace oozes, pours.

Sometimes I yearn for the normality, for a peace of mind. I want to feel the normal cadence of my heart thumping against this chest.

I don’t want to feel the cold dishes clashing against each other. I don’t want to feel the screams that erupt. I don’t want to feel the specter of winter mutilating my sanity. I don’t want to feel your disappointment, your sorrow every single day of my life.  I’ve stared at that face for the past 23 years. It’s time that time began to deteriorate. I simply can’t keep refilling every single Mason jar with it.  We have caseloads. The truck is overflowing, it’s breaking. I am breaking. Cracking like hands accustomed to water and harsh soap.  

I don’t want to live with your regrets hanging loosely across your shoulders. I don’t want to deal with your remorse draped across your body for display.  Tell me what I can do. But first, you must let go. You must let those hurts heals, with scars momma. You have to let me bandage them, wrap them. they’ll heal. Just let me…

I don’t want to be another tragic brown story.

So today I decided. I am not going home today. I’m going keep myself away. Until I can leave, truly, and come back mended. Only then can we begin yours. Maybe next time I can stare at the mirror and not look away. I need to become the sinew, the meat, and the heart.

I won’t be another brown tragedy. I refuse. 

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

"I Can Feel Your Energy From Two Planets Away"

I don't want to write words for you anymore. I detest the fact you might be reading this, indulging in my sorrow. Can you tell me something? Reach your hand out of the screen and embrace me, for a minute. I want to feel your heart speeding up next to mine. It's difficult. Why did you come last week? For them? Yes, who else? Certainly not I. It's crazy that some silly ass shit that happened (but didn't happen) months/ year (?) ago could still stick like resin on my skin. It's a blob, a mess that covers my entire body. I hate that I can still cry about you when I see you or think about you. When I truly let my memories enter me. It's that pit in my hands again. The critters on my finger tips don't come until I let you come out.  I was afraid you were going to pour out of me. Even without having held your face in my arms, or on my chest, or on my lap, there's an indentation of your exact height and built next to mine. It fits the side of my hip, my torso, and my arms. It's like I refuse to hold anyone else, even though I've touched and kissed someone else.  I finally kissed someone, someones. It was fun. I suppose. A vacuous feeling. Nothing compared to just being with you. Holding your smile, and your smirk. It doesn't even touch the margin. The proximity of their tongue next to mine, and their hand touching my back was a distance incomparable of what you reached. My heart. My soul. It was a sticky sweet feeling. You were so grand. Something that came so easily, yet with you I wanted to take my time and see you first. I was ridiculous thinking of some alturisitc bullshit before I could even hug your lips. Because yes i was thinking of some holy alturisitc thing of not even touching you, your lips. your hands around me. It was all a wiry mess of feelings that refused to give in, until you left then it was all done and those things shattered.