I watch your head turn
Delighted to find your hidden shapes and eager to follow your lines
Different than I thought you’d be
And all the better
Of life lived and life left to live
They pull me in so hard I think I left my bones behind
Resplendent in their wholeness
They are sparkling sunshine between their iris leaves
My breath catches and for a moment I fear I’ll burst
But before I turn to blush
I realize they’re holding me softly
And I think maybe I could stay here a while
she was your star, and around her we both spun
you as the earth to her fire
and me as the lonely moon, tugging at the waves inside you
when you turned your back to me, I wept in the cold of your shadow
for she alone held your light
now that she’s gone, we stay cold together
fumbling in the dark over wreckage we can’t forget
struggling to find light in the deadness
So tell me now if I should let go. Tell me now because I’m falling fast into this cocoon of security and of comfort. For once, I move away and you pull me closer. I used to sit by with a sinking heart as I watched your mind float away into a tormented world I had no place in. You seem to have left that behind you because you’re always here now, but will you stay?
I don’t know what I did to deserve this but I want to hold on, I want to believe it and I want to feel you. It feels real but I don’t know why it would be when transience has always been the essence of our story. I feel this affection is conditional, and the condition is that I act like a good little girl, that I don’t ruffle feathers, don’t cry too much or for the wrong reasons, that I’m always ready with a wet mouth aspiring to please and distract you. I’m not sure I can keep trying so desperately to prove I’m worthy a fidelity that may not even exist.
This used to be this kind of thing would send me into a tailspin. Used to be I’d need eight drinks right about now. But I just don’t anymore.
You used that picture I took of you to advertise yourself to other women. Publicized a private moment seen through my eyes. And isn’t it ironic that if they truly gazed at you from my vantage point they would run the other way?
When we were together I ignored people’s distaste for your offensive brand of humor and your social behaviors that always verged on douchebaggery. The way bartenders just knew when we walked into a place that they didn’t like you. It was strange and a bit painful to watch as you thought you were winning them over with your small talk.
And how odd, when I mentioned your name to the people you told me to, they seemed a bit turned off. Or sometimes they didn’t seem to think much of you at all.
You’ve got some fancy ideas, babe, but no one cares. The disciples aren’t coming and you haven’t the discipline to work.
I don’t think you are what you set out to be, what you still pretend to be, even to yourself. And deep down I think maybe you know.
I hope you crawl back into that hole you came from and remember what you are.
Sadness creeps in at the end of each day and I’ve got nothing and no one to save me. Can’t even rely on the self-pity that comes with mourning your give-a-fucks for me because I’ve known for a while now that you’re all out. Or maybe you never had them to begin with. Is the chair that sits next to me too uncomfortable for you?
You’re tired and time will just make you more tired. You’re tired of me being sad, I know you won’t come around when I feel crazy. There’s no more room for me to be anything but a delight, a pleasure. There’s no room for my darkness, no room for me to mess up and no shoulder to cry on.
You listen but you keep me at arm’s distance. I don’t know how to inhabit this space. It makes me hate you and it makes me hate myself. But when I leave you accuse me of not caring. You can’t see that I’m just trying to live somewhere that doesn’t hurt so much.
I’m alone. But maybe that’s what I need after all this time.