June 21, 2011
Be Careful What You Wish For
I didn’t even make it up the stairs. I collapsed in surreal pain and excruciating numbness. These kinds of feelings should be what make the shell grow harder and yet somehow I had become soft, soft and supple as your skin when I had touched it in the shifting minutes of dawn. Now I have inspiration again, that well of kisses dry and replaced by a spring of tears. The heartache made me sick, I begged and pleaded from the floor but silent echoes were all that answered my sobs. Why can’t you be all those things I want you to be and often pretended you were in the daydreams of my heart? The lost sleep is slighted by the black gnarled hole that resides where my heart once beat. You blindsided me, you crept slowly like those tall cocktails into my brain with this talk of “it must stop,” “we have to end it.” I left my body, floated above us from bar to bar, my face expressionless, the shell not hard enough. Where did the rug go? And why now? Because I think it might rain again and I can barely stand.