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Jul 15 · 191
head West, keep going
Megan Jones Jul 15
CW/TW** Mental abuse, physical abuse, domestic violence

You were sitting at the bar, neon lights danced down your face
With your friends you laughed about some stupid movie you all loved
I saw when you looked down at your hands, your smile disappeared
The loneliness began to creep up behind your eyelids
I approached you, asked if you'd have a beer and smoke with me
You walked me home after, laughing about ridiculous childhood memories
Sharing our frustrations over how much had changed since the simple days
"I didn't know you back then, but I wish that I had"

He was coming over tonight, I was making us dinner
"I know your birthday isn't for another week, but I have a surprise for you"
He opened the box, full of his favorite games, CDs, and books from his childhood
The ones he had relied on through his mom's various relationships, the abuse, the picking up and moving, the lost friendships
Everything he lost, piece by piece, move after move
He tried his best to not cry in front of me
"I figured you weren't listening. Nobody remembers stuff like this."
He told me he loved me, I said it back.

We moved into a Tudor style house with a big garden, just as I dreamed
Settling in the same town where I went to high school
We painted the walls shades of blue, had a candlelit dinner with a table made of boxes, we slept on our mattress on the floor
"All I ever wanted was for you to have a place to call home,
to want to stay, to feel safe"

The next morning he received a call, his mother was back in the hospital
He had no contact for years, she said she needed him this time
He was quiet most of the day as we shopped for furniture
A familiar face spotted me from down the aisle, a high school boyfriend
"Long time no see, did you move back?"
"Just yesterday", I introduced them
"We should catch up sometime, see you around"
He looked at me, unamused. "You gonna hang out with him? I think you should"
I shook my head "No thanks"
Laughing, he said, " Well, sure feels like you want to"
"I'm not even going to entertain this conversation"
He didn't come home from the bars until 3am, he slept on the couch
I woke him up, his plane was leaving in a couple of hours
I asked again if he wanted me to go with him to see her
"Don't act like you care. Have fun hanging out with him."
He grabbed his suitcase and slammed the door.

He was returning today, we had hardly spoken for two weeks
He came through the door with a dozen white roses
He hugged me and wouldn't let go. "Please forgive me
Please? I am so sorry. I couldn't live if I ever lost you"
I awoke in the middle of the night, our bedroom glowing
I caught a glimpse of him, my phone in his hands, I pretended to sleep
I didn't want to fight.

The garden had become overrun by weeds
The vases in the house had emptied
The blue walls turned to shades of gray
It was pouring rain, at home, after the funeral
I walked outside, laid in the street
The drops of water reflecting the landscape across my face
It washed over the blotches on my skin, old and new
Blue, black, brown, green, yellow
He saw me and ran outside, carried me off the road
"I'm so sorry, it won't happen again, I promise
If you leave me, I would die
If you leave me, I would die
I don't think you understand
Without you, I won't survive"
It felt like drowning.
I'm writing a series about control. The ways in which people manipulate time, memories, feelings etc. as a means of determining and predicting what free-thinking individuals do/feel/say... All, supposedly, in the name of love or as a means to preemptively protect themselves from being subjected to the uncontrollable.
Megan Jones Jul 10
Walking up the stairs, it was quiet
Feeling that old **** carpet, like pillows beneath my toes
The house smelled the same, of dust and wood, sometimes
a hint of clean laundry and vanilla candles
Approaching the room - hit like a stroke - or a baseball
to the left eye in 1998

A museum of furniture, clothing, trophies, memories-
Notes whose meanings no longer could be immediately recalled,
And some we wouldn't want to remember
A slip of paper, under my mattress, it read "Please
just let me say I'm sorry one more time, I can't lose you"
Signed, The First Girl I Thought I Loved
She now has three children and goes on vacations to Lake Tahoe
To see the sunset, to breathe again and again

I searched everywhere for the box, the one where we
keep sentimental **** because it feels wrong to throw it away
Then I remembered the day she threw it in the street, saying
"You think they care about you? You think any of these people know what you really are? Nobody will ever love you like your mother loves you"
The screen door cracked that day and my memories
Oh, they flew away like paper airplanes, flying so high

I sighed to release myself, to be free of it
Grabbed the bright red canister and began
Drowning the time capsule, the mausoleum, familiarity dissipating
I lit the match, paused for a brief moment of silence
Then watched as it was devoured, chemically altered

You both preserved this room, just the way it was
Locked me in that room, throwing away the key
Safeguarding these memories, only the ones easier to swallow
Maybe if it never changed, then I would not have
Maybe if it all stayed in place, it would be ready for my return
Let this serve as a reminder
That room killed me, and now it dies with you.
I'm writing a series about control. The ways in which people manipulate time, memories, feelings etc. as a means of determining and predicting what free-thinking individuals do/feel/say... All, supposedly, in the name of love or as a means to preemptively protect themselves from being subjected to the uncontrollable.
Jun 18 · 232
Rimini, IT
Megan Jones Jun 18
We gathered to celebrate the newlyweds,
I only came here because I knew
He would be here
July 26th, 2008-

It had been fifteen years... since she was taken from us
The night had come swiftly, salt tainted mist - for your wounds
I was but a child when he took her and disappeared.
You robbed, stole, abused - Now, it is your time.

You didn't recognize me from across the room
My fingertips softly tapped my champagne glass
Glancing at reflections on the sharp edges
Explosions in gold, a world turned upside down
Melting around the corners, disappearing -

Our eyes met and you took my hand, to the terrace
As we stared out into the shadowed earth,
Only comforted by the sound of creatures and smell of dew
You looked up at the sky, a coat of silver jewels
Spread across dark, ad infinitum
You inhaled, exhaled - a plume of smoke
A world shifted, right side up

You began to speak of Federico Fellini
As if I were a conquest... to impress
Interrupting, you, "Say my name"
You stared blankly at my eyes - shifting from fire to ash
"Say my name, say it"
"Say my name."
Suddenly - your eyes widened, inhaling, the memory
Your mouth opened to speak - I pushed as hard as I could
You fell - and lay - beside the river below
Unchanged, an immovable object, an anchor, callous

Running down stairs, through trees, amidst the collapse
Reaching the point of exhaustion, I sat, I smoked
Surrounded by chairs dancing in the dark, like skeletons
Is this what you wanted?
Is this what You wanted?
Apr 16 · 1.2k
Trophy Lake, SC
Megan Jones Apr 16
"Can I take you home?" Home-
"The place where one lives
Permanently, especially as a member
Of a family or household"

It was August of 1993,
Summers were always humid down there
We would sit by the lake and watch the boats
With their bright lights and distant laughter
We would swing under the branches of the weeping willow
Catching fireflies in jars, just to let them go moments later

He would only come 'round when it was warm again
He would take the boat out with us, teach us how to fish
We ran to the end of the driveway-
Where he would pick us up to go get ice cream
I would stare at his hands, shifting gears, ***** and shaking

She would get angry with him and smash the dinner plates
We would sit outside and hum our favorite songs
Falling asleep under the willow, just beside the motionless water-
Shaken awake by the sound of yelling turning to screams-
Then, the sound of a hammer snapping against thick steel- again-
Muffled cracks stuck in our eardrums, repeating

Under the willow lay a fresh mound of soil
Next to it, a small cross we had woven out of sticks and twine
He left as suddenly as summer days, never found
The fireflies didn't come 'round anymore, people in boats didn't laugh anymore
Soon after, it was abandoned- that home -and never spoken of again
Apr 12 · 556
Chugiak, AK
Megan Jones Apr 12
December 18th, 2018
I've been running down this
Snow-covered road
For fourteen miles
With arrowheads
Pierced through
The bridges of my feet

Extremities turning blue, then black
You can't turn back now, face it-
"Twelve inches overnight", they said
We reap what we sow, echoing...

A whisper ran beside me
Running off the road - into the woods
I followed-
Until we reached the lake

Frozen almost to the center
I laid down, began making snow angels
Looking up at old light and dancing trees
I hope the ice cracks reach me-
Before they do
Sep 2016 · 2.7k
Megan Jones Sep 2016
I awoke in the night and felt your back against mine
Was this some sort of sign, some distance I couldn't explain?
Or was this a self-perceived storm in the making
constructed from nothing that was real?
The darkness took comfort in those nights we spent
back to back
Ticking, ticking, ticking-
Searching for an outlet, even forging one out of our lack
of subconscious physical attachment, trying to
create a wedge

The wedge served as an object that would separate
my vulnerability from reality
Creaking across my temples and finding solitude in
the destruction of everything I held dear,

As time went on, naturally that wedge became an abyss
and every night I fell hundreds of feet over and-
over again- until my heart shrank into a thread.
The feeling of uncontrollable anxious behaviors
began to manifest in my chest
There it remained-
digging around to find its home, once more
In my adolescent insecure tendencies
Sep 2015 · 2.0k
The Fields Spoke of Futility
Megan Jones Sep 2015
“Put pressure on it, it needs more pressure”
Holding your wounds shut
That senseless force is what took you away
Pressure- to be... whilst not desiring to be
You saw the clouds moving in greyscale
I saw the hills below scattered in shades of green,
Cavernous, shadowed, cryptic, familiar-

We were advised to go as the crow flies
I cried to a nameless God that your crow’s feet
Were from insurmountable happiness, not the pressures endured
I’ve forgotten much since the storm some-178 weeks ago
Though my body remembers yours over and over again
My skin has yours imprinted, correlated
Forged into one point on the axis between here and there
You the X, I the Y

The Earth crept between the crevices, curling
Through the distance between the Right radius and ulna
Elbows breaking knuckles, blood remains to be spilt
Blood doesn’t connect, if anything it merely separates

Scarecrows don’t help much when the crops won’t grow this year
Ants crawled out of the barrel of a shotgun
Observing the process of cleaning bones after tragedy

Follow the moss to find your way North with no direction-
Sometimes on the other side it’s not greener,
It’s more terrifying than ever before
Terrain untouched, unspoiled, sacred-

Climb up the trees with me, find your quiet
We won’t carve our names but we’ll find our niche
You’ll have quills and I’ll have armor
Not even the thought of stolen arrows,
Lost time through distance,
Or perhaps a slew of chemical imbalances
Can reach us up here
I chose to glue your pieces back together with mud and straw
Taken from the fallen, the loved and now distant memories

You may be an abandoned military base offshore
What was once used by many-
Witnesses life again, life of a different kind
The vegetation will ease its way into the cracks
Constructed when the foundation began to decay
It has a beauty of its own, one of self-sustainment
An everlasting beauty that connects itself
To the surrounding extravagance, often times ignored,
Death isn’t the only way to be forged into nature, remembered

Fear doesn’t always win, nor death do us part so soon
I hope your skin and bones remember before the end

— The End —