The day you got your hair cut
I went to a lesbian bar after work.
It was 3
And I was tired
But I went straight there
Because I had to do something.
I knew it was a lost cause before I even got there.
The back of my neck was prickling with tension
With fear
Because I knew I was too late.
Somewhere in the depths of my soul
My free will was on a gurney,
Cold.
But I couldn’t help it-
I needed to feel like I had control,
So I went inside.
People were dancing.
None of them held themselves the way you do
Like a marble statue that has set down axe and shield and stepped off the plinth for a brief rest
(You will be returning to battle shortly-
After you fix your eyeliner.)

I did a shot
Because that’s what you do.
They were free- *** on the Beach.
I sat there,
Wondering why the fact that you named your cat Heathcliff as a child meant that I had to love you.

I decided that I needed something stronger in the way of alcohol.

A girl with soft brown eyes and long hair came up to me.
Her name was Tiffany.
She wasn’t clever like you
And her voice
Wasn’t low and rough like yours
But she told me I was pretty.
I already knew, but I thanked her.
I felt nothing.
She wasn’t interesting
Or funny
Or smart.
She was attractive- beautiful even, I suppose,
And maybe she was kind.
She bought me a drink,
And mistook my sadness for shyness.
As I answered her questions I was afraid your name would fall from my lips like a seed
Take root and grow up through the floorboards.
Nothing she said changed me, nothing I said back changed me,
And my thoughts kept snagging on you
Tearing and unraveling.
I needed you out of my head.
She was looking at me with big eyes
And I suppose they were compelling
But they weren’t yours-
Rimmed with black, hypnotic and stormy at times, sparkling with mischief at others,
Forever changing and forever captivating,
Windows to a soul I fiercely wish I knew-
They were just eyes, and maybe they were vulnerable
Or curious
Or sweet.
I kissed her so that I could stop looking into them
And not seeing you there.
Her lips tasted like nothing.
I closed my eyes and kissed her harder,
Hoping for a reason to forget you.

We were beautiful, I knew that.
I could feel eyes on us-
Two small, lovely women
Tangled on the dance floor under the lights
Fingers in each other’s hair-
We must have looked
Just like lovers.

I searched for a way out of my feelings for you.
I kissed her for a long time, until we were both gasping.
I found nothing.
In my frustration I pulled her head back,
Bit her lip
Pressed my fingers hard into the back of her neck
And I felt her lust
But not mine.
It was nice to be wanted
But not nice enough.
I wanted to hurt her for touching me
For not being you
So I pulled away
And kissed her cheek gently
My hands beneath her jaw.
“Wow,” she said.
I couldn’t look at her.
That tenderness wasn’t hers
But it didn’t matter.
I kissed her hands
In penance disguised as sweetness.
Suddenly all the anger was gone from me
And I felt desolate.

That night I walked home with my head buzzing.
I wasn’t drunk,
I was sober as hell
Head pounding with thoughts of you.
I hated it.
I hate it.
Somehow I fell into this feeling
And I’ve been fighting not to drown ever since.
When I look at you
I feel everything I wish I’d felt while I was kissing her
And more
That I sometimes wish I’d never feel again.
Sometimes I think you see it.
Sometimes I know I cover for it badly.
Sometimes, when you’re suddenly present
Like the sun has turned on just for me
And then distant later
Like the sea at night
I think you know I already love you.
Maybe you hate it like I hate it.
Maybe you worship it like I worship it.
Maybe you fear it
And I don’t blame you.
A storm presses out against my skin when I look at you
And I’m surprised no chaos seeps through.
My bones hum with it
My heartbeat reaching like thunder into my fingers.

I’ll probably never kiss you
And maybe that’s for the best
Because even being near you makes me feel like I’m falling from somewhere high up.
If I kissed you, I’d feel everything, I’m sure of it-
Everything there is to feel
And it would end me
And I would be grateful.

I wonder if you ever see that in my eyes.
That fear, that longing, that shame and joy.
A love and loathing so intense it scalds.
‘I can’t believe I’m here again,’
It pounds through my veins.
‘I can’t believe I love another person
Who is always looking elsewhere.’

Just know, if you ever discover how I feel
That I tried to **** it.
I looked at this beautiful feeling
A feeling you could pray before like an altar
A feeling you could whisper into like a temple- barefoot and cold with wonder- and hear your soul echo back,
I looked at the sacred piece of humanity that had suddenly risen in my heart like a hymn
And I tried to silence it-
I tried hard-
So that you would never have to fear it.

I failed. It lives.
It took root in me, and whenever I speak your name little harsh flowers push their way up through the concrete under my feet, sending cracks out like jagged spiderwebs.
They bloom like wounds.
They kiss the sky.
And, slowly,
They are crumbling this city to dust.

I could change your life, you know.
I could kiss you and unravel the second skin you've slipped on to hide your pain, your loneliness-
Beautiful as a canvas, painted so that none of the seams can be seen,
I could free you of it for a moment.
I could drop it to the floor like silk, and you would breathe like the domed sky out west-
Blue and unbroken and vast enough to swallow the earth.
I could look at you and you wouldn't flinch, wouldn't crumble;
I would touch you with tenderness.
What do you hold inside?
I wonder if you are a storm, or a forest fire. A river perhaps.
I never turn my head unless I feel gravity: You are vast inside, and it tugs at me.
Tell me who you are. Your secrets, your dreams.
I could change your life, you know.

I will keep shocking you until you realize that I will always shock you.

I will do precisely what you wish I wouldn't do,
Until you understand that my life depends on you.

I will keep dying until you realize that I will always die, and that there is nothing you can do about it.

I will throw away the things you love in me,
Until my love is all there is and all you see.

I will keep hurting until you realize that you care if I do.

"Bye, Lee!" chirps one of my friends. I muster a smile for her, put a little enthusiasm into my voice, "Bye!" and start walking down the side of the road, home. Or wherever. It's nighttime, and mist hangs in the air, so thick in spots that it's almost rain. I put my ipod on, smooth my hair back, look up at the few stars. It's cool but so humid that I can feel the air pressing on me.
"Elevator straight into my skull..."
No street lights. I like it that way. I like it better when the darkness isn't broken by pools of light. I can think better, then. Not that I really want to think. Hence the loud music. I know I should change the song, put on something less smooth and dreamy, less dark, less thoughtful. But my nature is to dwell on whatever mood I'm in. And tonight I'm in the mood to lose all my choices. I think about her. About her lips, red in the bright lights. About how she wouldn't really touch me. About what it would mean if she had. I think about giving up. I think about how empty my life would be if I did. I think about how hard it promises to be if I don't, and how slim my chances really are. I think about everyone else she could pick. I think about the time she picked me. I can't shut it off, there on my long road in the misty darkness. It just runs by itself, a never ending stream of thought. It hurts! God, it hurts to think that I may never really get to love her again. To kiss her. To hold her. It hurts to think of the very real possibility that she's just being nice, letting me near her. It hurts to think that maybe she wants what I want, but will refuse to let it happen. It all hurts. And I stop, hold my head a minute, scrape my hair back from my eyes and look up, trying to regain control. It hurts so that for a moment I can see myself curling up right there, a tight little ball, and crying until my tears run out. I can feel her arms around me, the ghost of what used to be. They are so comforting that I could cry myself to death, knowing they aren't real.
"On the edge of a dream that you had..."
It's not the fact that she's not here, not just that. It's that she could be, so easily, and she's not. And that drives it home into my heart. I am disinclined to lie to myself, about anything. But I know that I could lie to myself over her. I could do that, I am that vulnerable. What hurts is that I don't know if I'm lying to myself. That I could so easily see the signs that she doesn't want me, so easily, but that I ignore them. I don't know what I believe. I don't know what to think. When I look into her face, I can read nothing there. No joy to see me, no disgust, no love, no hatred. Somehow it's almost worse to think that perhaps she feels nothing at all. Indifference is more unendurable than hate.
"Has anybody ever told you it's not coming true?"
But no, no she can't feel nothing... Why would she choose me for anything ever if she didn't feel something? God, I can't hold it all. My head spins. I feel my arms wrapped around me, around my stomach so tight that I am forced to my knees. Get a grip, Lee. Get a ******* grip. Fists. I stab my nails into my palms, feel the half moons of blood rising as I force myself to stand. I'm too tired for this. Too tired to worry, too tired to hurt. I just want comfort. Her comfort. But she won't give it. She is far away. I can feel her distance when she is two inches from me. I can feel her pushing me away even when she hugs me. Especially then. It tears my heart up. I feel the tears run down my cheeks, and I am ashamed, defeated. And all of a sudden, in my desolation, I hit the plateau that never used to be there. I level out and suddenly a heavy apathy weighs my limbs like lead.
"You can hold on but I wouldn't waste your time..."
Suddenly I stand completely still, a realization slowly dawning in me, raising my eyes, relaxing my stance of anguish. I can feel my body loosening. My mind empties, and there is the center line of the road in my head. It's white and broken. The pavement is smooth and dark, not yet marred by cracks or crumbles.
"Farewell my..."
And abruptly there I am, standing on the line. I missed a whole moment. My eyes feel glazed. My breaths come like in sleep. To think of anything elicits no response, no reaction, no recognition. All I am is one moment.
"Black balloon."
I lay down, carefully, so that I fit perfectly on the line, and stare up at the black sky above me. Repeat, repeat, repeat, the song plays over and over, too many times to count, deepening the darkness around me until I feel as if I have never been anything or anywhere or anyone other than this. I am only darkness, and there are no edges to me. It hits me like a wave, the truth. That she's not coming back. That I am wasting my time. That I am alone. But where I expect tears, panic, anguish, I find only a sick calm. The kind of calm sureness that comes with finally finding the truth, and not caring one bit, because you know exactly what to do.
"Ahhh, ahhh. Ahhhh. Ahhh, ahh, ah, ah..."
Five minutes ago- was it five or fifty?-there was no way out of it. There was no solution but to move forward. Nothing I could do. Now, I cannot feel desperate. I can only feel this sort of sad, calm obsession.
"Farewell my..."
This drive, this compulsion, with a touch of melancholy but a peace almost like sleep. I sit up. Push myself to my feet. Stand in the very center of the road. Headlights are creeping around the corner. I stand there and stare at them. It's odd to see. Have you ever stood before a car, directly in front of it, and it was so dark you could only see the headlights, growing, growing...? I suppose you probably haven't. It is almost a spiritual experience, seeing them loom ahead of me. They pull me toward them like a magnet, and my body sways and leans forward. Here they come, right here, so close... My eyes are full of the glow of those headlights. They are the same as me. Empty and full of cold light.
"Black balloon. The weather had its way with you."
And now I am sprawled on the road. Below me I see blood. I see limbs askew. I am above myself, suspended within the mist, and before all the lights invade and pull us apart, I see the girl I used to be. She is so pale. So small. So fragile. For the first time in so long, her face does not show the lines of pain. She looks so...peaceful. And I feel no regret. I know I am unraveling, and I am so glad to feel myself slipping away. I feel my memories fading, my cares, my empathy, my hatred, my pain, and finally...my love. I am nothing. Finally. Finally I am nothing.
"Farewell my..."
Going...going....
"Black balloon."
Gone.

In my dreams
I am too powerful to ignore.
I've learned a thing or two there.
I've got a flinty stare
And a chip on my shoulder
Things I hide beneath a meek smile
An unimpressive little girl voice,
And an eagerness to help.
But behind these eyes
Is a creature that craves power.
My only fear is that I know I have it.
Once I tip my hand,
Once everyone sees it
What will I have?
What's my ace in the hole
If everybody knows I know I'm strong?
In my dreams
They'd be everyone else's nightmares
In my dreams
I run through rainslicked streets
Chased by gunmen
And I feel alive.
I smile, feral,
And I laugh as I fight.
I want that in my body.
I want those bruises and that sureness,
I want my power.
In my dreams when I am set upon
I think
Finally
And I give it my all with a freed laugh
And a joy too wild for waking hours.
I am too powerful to ignore.
I am too powerful to stay hidden.
When I rip off this flimsy skin and step forward
I want to be naked and smug.
But I am afraid that I will have no power
If I don't hide mine.
If it is seen
Is it lessened by the viewers?
My secret
My secret
My secret is I am not
Afraid.

I smell like you all over.
Your perfume clings to my hair,
My skin.
It has seeped into my pores
And softened my lips.
I don't even know what it's called
But I wear it like silk
And I'm not sure I want it to wash off.
I think it's true-
The senses sharpen when sight flees.
Should I feel different?

I can't help it.
Any evidence of you just pulls me in like a tractor beam.
Anything even slightly related, even vaguely connected-
If I can stand it, I am drawn to it,
And I stand gorgonized, trying to feel you in the thought of you.

I like to leave my mark on my books.
I've gotten into the habit, as of late, that when my books are tangible
With pages and dog-ears and tears,
And little coffee stains and broken bindings,
That they also hold something else of me.
When I stopped writing my story,
I started scrawling responses to theirs
Everyone else's
In my books
Novels and poetry
Are scribbled with underlines and little comments,
Agreeing or acquiescing,
Rebutting or rebuking
Some author or character to whom I feel a particular connection.
I like to leave a bit of myself in my books
So that they might be no one else's
Not ever.
Compelled by feeling,
I scrawl my heart on the pages of my books
And make us the same.

The people who chase the happy things? Who listen to bouncy music and laugh freely and celebrate every moment of life? Here's the secret:
They're the ones who have been demolished by life.
They know.
They get what's important.
They steal every moment of joy they can get their hands on, miser them all away for the terrible times,
Because they know that it's only a matter of time
Until the tide comes in.

She has dark hair that catches the light red,
Wild and curly and it dances in the breeze.
She has the bluest eyes I've ever seen, full of laughter and warmth-
Eyes like that are dangerous, they can make a whole room hot or cold
All on their own.
She saw me loving her, and drew my soul from me
With the touch of her fingers on my cheek and a soft kiss
And took it with her when she pulled away and walked down the hall
At 3 am
And when she rounded the corner
She'll never know that I sat down and cried
Right there
Because I knew I'd never quite get it back.
I knew she wouldn't be so close ever again.
But I cried with a smile
Because everyone I meet who can make me feel so intensely that I lose control
Is the most important person I've ever met, all over again.

It's strange to feel displaced so quickly.
I thought I'd have more time than this.
More time until
"You have a life and I'm not in it."
Would reverberate through my bones
Like the shockwaves that shoot up your knees when you jump from somewhere high.
It hurts.
It's disorienting.
I can't tell if I am annoying you by missing you,
Because I don't get the chance to hear it clearly in your words.
All of a sudden,
There aren't any
For me.
I want to say "I'm sorry."
And be forgiven like I made a mistake or said something wrong.
But I didn't.
I couldn't have,
Could I?
Just last week you told me a secret nobody else knows,
Shared the intimacy of love and trust
With me.
And now again I don't know where I stand,
Can't see my own feet in the haze.
Am I on solid ground,
Concealed but steady,
Silent but firm?
Or am I on a crumbling cliff face,
One breath from tumbling
With loose stones and tree roots
To tear my skin on the way down?
Am I losing you
Or are you just busy?
Are you cross with me
Or do you just not have the time to be gentle?
I don't want to care.
I don't want to need you.
Because this happens from time to time,
You see?
It happens.
You feel like trying to hold the waves in my hands.
Trying to find purchase with my fingers in the morning mist.
I can never be sure you won't slip away
With no warning and no reason.
And so when for a day you are departed
I grieve,
And fear,
And worry,
And suffer.
And I hate that about myself.
So much that I think you must too.
But maybe I just need to have a reason in my head
That you were here, and warm, and tender
Yesterday
And aren't today.

Take my hand like you did
In the haze of a dream once before
And lead me to the ocean
Drown me beneath you on the smooth dry shore
Strong and deep like black water
Silk and sand beneath my skin
The moon trails her coattails on the billowing waves
This is where dreams begin.

Take my hand, I am so cold
And sink me beneath silver sea foam
Guide me to the end of light
Let your hands become my home.
Paint my lips with yours, my love
I don't need breath beneath the sea
I never did adore the land
And you've so much you can teach me.

You've carved me like a river, love.
Don't you see?
You touched me and I caved like a landslide,
But you kept on.
Slowly you cut a path through my heart,
Down, down,
A chasm, a rift, down to the core,
Hard and sharp like rock
Worn down by white water.
You've carved me deep, love...
And still you pound through my veins like rapids.

The last time it rained
I stepped outside into the grey air
And I caught some lightning in a jar
Like a violent firefly.
And I held it up against the sky
With its cold light and its diamond rain
And I felt the hum through the pads of my fingers
And thumping in my chest
And I realized that I am alive
For good or ill,
For better or worse,
I am electric.
I am the thrum of a storm in the air like music.
For all that I have lost,
For all my pointless love,
I am vividly alive.

So I pried up the lid.

I was thinking, this morning
As my cat dragged my bacon off the plate and onto the new tablecloth
As my other cat tried to bury the newly smeared grease stain
As still another measured how far he could nudge a glass off the edge of the counter before it would fall and shatter,
And the first moved on to gnawing happily on the fresh flowers we'd tried to conceal from her,
And the second endeavored to pull the Christmas tree down by the bottom string of lights,
And the third clumsily swished a tail through what remained of my repast
I was thinking:
See, this is why we can't have nice things.

I don't know why I jumped out of my skin
As if it was wrong of me to be standing there in the dark
And holding a close-to-worn-out handkerchief to my cheek
Remembering.
Looking up at the stars and trying to feel closer to someone
Who I have subtly but artfully made
My entire life.

I suppose I might have been ashamed to be so raw.
Here I see how close to the surface I am living with my soul,
Like a live wire with the metal part exposed
Sparking,
Eating away at its casing a bit more every day.
Sometimes you look at me like I'm sizzling
And I realize that I must be very foreign
In some ways
To you.
Maybe that is why I was so shaken up, so off balance.
I look at you
And I see someone who is free.
(I doubt your feelings
Make you dance
Like a marionette
And weep
Like a leaky faucet.)
I have always admired your composure
And been puzzled by it.
Sometimes I think we are different creatures
Who, underneath, don't know what to make of one another.

Maybe that is why.

Maybe I jumped because in that second
I wondered what you'd think if you'd seen what I'm like.
If you knew that sometimes when she touches me I shake
Like a leaf fluttering in the wind
Because the whole world couldn't hold all the concentrated longing and love
That cuts through me.

If you saw me in those bare moments
When I've lost control
And run my fingertips across her cheeks
Like she is sacred
Because she is.

Maybe I wondered, if you knew that my nights are actually sleepless
Because I lie awake loving her,
And sometimes it courses through me with such force that I have to move
Go
Run away and find a place under the stars
To tell her that she is beautiful over and over,
What would you think of me?
Me,
Ruled by love, worshiping it,
Every errant tear a sacrifice to someone I think of privately
As close to a god
And certainly more important.
What would you think of me?
Crushed under the weight of these feelings-
Not even current-
Just the echoes, the reverberations
Of what I've felt in her arms.

What would you think?
If you knew that when she kisses me I can only compare it
To being slow-motion pulled apart by the atom
And feeling all the little spaces between fill up with light,
Wishing I wasn't merely a flesh and blood body
With flimsy bones and a stuttering heart.
Wishing I wasn't a hopelessly tiny vessel
Trying to hold a feeling that forces me to my knees,
Wishing that instead of holding it tight in my lungs like smoke
I could breathe it every second
And expand.

Maybe I jumped as if you'd seen me naked
Because you had.
And what if what you saw in me
Was just a child,
Just a fool, tricked by the world,
So naive and so victimized and so
So
Young?
Because sometimes I see that too.
And I would want to tell you
No, I'm not the fool,
No, I'm not the hopeful little girl
About to be shown that the world is seldom fair.
I'd want to tell you that, see,
But I wouldn't be able to.
Because I don't know if I believe it
Myself.

Maybe I felt ashamed that you saw how much love moves me
Because love moves me
So much.
Because I
Am also ashamed to see it.
(Because I
Am a little ashamed to feel it)

What is it
In my head
That makes you
So much more important than me
And me
So worthless
That I care
If you want me around?

Since I was a child I have been beset with words.
Besotted with them.
Besmirched, beguiled, become, by words.
They have been my solace and the knife by which my deepest wounds have been carved.
They have been my curse and my gift,
They have bubbled out of me, as if I were a cup too-full,
Merely a vessel for my thoughts that spew forth of their own accord.
And so, with my abundance of words, I made a life for myself.
And yet, when I decided to end it, I could find none.
Not until the last moments did I realize the importance of the space between them,
Nor the effect of silence.
You will get no reason for my departure:
My words were taken for granted in life.
Every day I threw my thoughts out into the world,
Hurled them at the people surrounding me,
And no one took hold of one.
My words were wasted in life,
For no one cared to see what they meant.
And now in death, you have my silence,
When you want my goodbyes.

What about me do I want you to know?
I could say
I'm a lonely person
Who looks upon the world with a hunger
She doesn't understand.
Sometimes
I pass through the streets like a shadow
Gazing at the warm, rosy souls around me
And when people touch each other
Even in conversation, without noticing,
I ache with separateness
But not
With envy.

I could say
I'm a bit different
A bit dark,
I could say I've seen enough pain
To make me cruel
And that the only thing I'm truly proud of
Is that I am kind anyway.

I could tell you
That I've fallen in love with half a dozen strangers
Just for their eyes
And stayed there for years.
That although I rarely reach for anything,
I yearn in silence
Quietly smoldering, burning for a world full of rawness and contact,
But kept from it by a strangely thick skin
And brittle chinadoll bones.

I could tell you that when I choose to look into your eyes
And let you see the chaos in me
It is a gift which very few receive from me
And even fewer
Appreciate.

I could tell you that if you are gentle with me
I will mend every part of you that ever felt shattered
And meekly walk away when I am finished

I confess
I find it so much easier to be tender
To people who will forget me in the morning.
So much safer to run my fingers along the cheek of someone
Lost
To their need- whatever it may be-
Who won't
Or can't
Notice the hearth of my heart catching my ribs and sending cinders through my veins.
It is not love that makes me tender,
Although love blooms easily from my tenderness.
It is a fascination with other people's vulnerability
Their fragility
Their raw, honest desires and fears.
It draws me in and I spend all my days
Just tirelessly holding back arms that ache to comfort
And eyes that burn to see every dark corner of these intricate creatures I live near day after day
To see and understand and become,

Because I suppose the thing I'd most like to tell you
About me
Is that good and evil
Right and wrong
Mean very little to me, in the end:

I want to be.
I want to be
All.

I want to be every human thing there is
Touch it
Feel it
Taste it
Worship it.
I want to feel every wretched and exquisite thing I am capable of holding without shattering,
And I want to press them all with my palms
Into someone else's skin and watch them rise like ink.
It doesn't matter to me what you are, what you do,
Because whether it harms or mends I will look at you like a stained glass window
Like a statue of marble
Like a painting, all lit and framed and bursting with color.
I want
Every detail of this world
To touch every part of me
And that
Is what I should tell you now
Because that
Is what you will fear later.

I know why I ran from you.
I could not protect myself from her.
She was everything.
That love
Bit too deep.
But I could shield myself from you
And the damage you could do.
I knew I couldn't love her
And lean on you
When both of you
Could cut me to the heart.
So I protected myself
From you
Because there was no hiding
From her.

I wandered late, but I was not alone:
The Night walked with me
Like a black hound
With eyes of rainwater-starlight,
And breath in misty plumes.

The church loomed, hulking, in the dark,
For in my fragility I sought some solace there-
To be alone in a place where faith rang like music,
Perhaps the echoes of believers would seep into me
And slow my pulse
And lend me a scrap of comfort that I didn't own...
There is something sacred about a silent place
In which hundreds of people have sat and allowed themselves
To feel,
And I believe in that, if not in God.

Halfway to tears, I tried the door
But it was locked.
And the belated certainty that it always had been
Settled over me like a lead blanket,
And I sat, shivering, on the steps.
And my companion-
Now a hot, solid form of shifting bones and sinew-
Whined his sympathies,
Curled around me
And laid his massive head
Upon my knee.

I forgive you for breaking my heart by accident.
I forgive you for forgetting about me.
I forgive you for the things you could do to hurt me, the things you might do.
I forgive you for the fact that you might not even come close to doing any of them because you may not even ever speak to me again.
I don't forgive myself for falling for you over the course of a few hours,
But I am working on it
Because I think I deserve my forgiveness, too.
I was angry for a long time-
It is my first line of defense.
I manufacture anger like armor,
And I live in it until I am healed enough to see the truth,
And the truth is I forgive you for not choosing me.
And I'll always forgive you
For whatever you do.
And I hope you do things.
No, not so that I can forgive you
But because if you are close enough to hurt me ever again it will mean that
*You
Are
Close.

Sometimes when it gets dark
I scroll down my friend's blog.
She wants to **** herself.
I want to tell her I won't see her in hell.
That those pictures of starving women, all bones with skin stretched across like canvas
Aren't lovely.
They're obscene.
She makes me feel so mean
Hating her like I do when I see another silent moving picture
Of a girl swinging from rope
And another self indulgent sentence or two
About how she wishes that was her.
I want to tell her she hasn't earned her right to give up.
That nobody has.
She makes me wonder if I am cold and heartless,
Or just a self-hate survivor.
I remember feeling like I'd already died
Underground in the silence of all that dirt
Thinking it should be more peaceful than it was.
I never gave up.
I suppose maybe the reason I hate her so much
For her indulgences
Is not that I see myself as better,
But instead the lingering impression that when I was that way
I was the weakest
Most abhorrent
Most useless little smudge on the cold silver mirror of living,
And I still kept on.
Maybe it's not that I think I'm better than she is
But that I know I was worse
And I don't want anyone giving up
When they're all stronger than me.
Don't want to see a quitter more capable than I am
When I- even I, the pandering puppydog weakling-
Never gave in.

Missing you always did feel like starving to death.
But I'm as addicted to the emptiness of your absence
As I am to the comfort of your love.
So close.
I was so close.
We
Were so close.
And now I want nothing more
Than to die of the lack of you,
However many years it may take.

I am afraid.
Today I woke up
Scared.
Scared of many things.
Scared like I would be anyway
That tick tick tick
In a few days
You will be gone altogether.
Scared more because
I feel myself reaching for you
And I can't stop.
Scared
Just because I haven't heard your voice in days
And something happened inside me
That needs that comfort to heal.
At breakfast
I was scared of my pancakes.
They were a challenge.
It has been days since food has made me anything but nauseous.
They steamed on my plate
Hot and sweet and doused in thick syrup.
I stared them down.
I tried hard to lift my fork.
Set it down.
Moved on to my coffee.
Its sweetness, too, sickened me.
I was afraid of that coffee.
As if it would suddenly strike
Like a cobra.
I was afraid
Of every person in that room.
I was afraid
Of my hands.
I was afraid
Of my heartbeat.
I was afraid
Of you
And your silence.
I laughed with my friends
And I was afraid
Of my laugh.
Afraid of how they didn't know
How scared I was.
Afraid that I would just slip and tell them
And they would support me
And it wouldn't help.
I excused myself,
Went to the small private little bathroom
Just outside.
I locked the door and tried to cry.
Nothing.
I felt sick
But nothing there, either.
Finally I looked myself in the eyes in the mirror
(You called them beautiful the other day)
(That thought flashed through my mind
And I saw it strike a spark of longing inside them
But it quickly died.)
I said,
"I don't want to be mean.
But if I'm not mean, you don't listen.
People say never to put yourself down
But if I am not harsh it doesn't get through.
You are being stupid. Grow up. Live. Eat something
Go on.
Nothing bad has happened.
And if you do not see her again for six months
You have lost much, much more before.
You stand up tall like you've earned.
Come on, just stop this."
I stared back, hollow looking.
I pulled up the bottom of my shirt
Let my stomach out as far as it would go.
It made no difference to my waistline at all.
I was afraid
Of that.
I pulled it down and grabbed the edges of the sink,
"You are DYING. You are starving inside,
Don't do it outside.
Let me eat.
Please.
Now you're going to go out there
And you're going to smile
Like nothing has ever scared you.
And none of those people will know you thought any of this
And none of those people will see your terror in your eyes
And that
Will be your strength.
If you refuse to feel better
I'll be ****** if anybody will see it."
I took a deep breath
And in the mirror
I complied.
My face settled into a calm mask
The face of a girl who had just had pancakes for breakfast
Who had a final to study for
Who had friends to laugh with
Whose day was ordinary.
A hint of a smile on my lips
A lift to my eyes.
I know just how
To rearrange my face.
(The goal is
People's eyes will slide right over it
And not take in any traitorous details.
Feng Shui, and all that.)
And the satisfaction settled over me
That at least there was that.
At least
All of a sudden
The girl in the mirror wasn't afraid
Even if I
Still was.
I walked back out
And smiled
And laughed with my friends
And ate my breakfast
Feeling sicker
With every bite.

You need to go.
And I don't know how to do it.
I don't want to forget you, to cut you off. I don't want to shatter my love for you.
There has to be another way.
But... you need to go.
I can't keep waking up sore every morning. Raw.
I can't keep talking myself out of tears.
I can't keep wondering why the hell you matter to me, and abusing myself for caring about you.
But I don't know how to do it. It's not in me to extinguish a love.
I have sacrificed every part of myself at least once to avoid it.
It has been the single thing I am unwilling to do.
The one unwavering line in the sand.
And I know where this leads- this trying to erase it.
I know because I've tried,
In pain,
In desperation, to destroy a love before. And I couldn't do it.
I threw more and more at it, unleashed every weapon I had.
And by the end...
I had caught the rest of me in the crossfire, and the only thing that remained untouched was that love.
You need to go.
But that will happen again if I try to uproot you from my soul.
It is a humbling lot. A prideless realization. That I must wait.
That I must serve the part of me that holds me captive, the only part of me I know as indestructible,
The part that reigns because nothing can dethrone it.
I must bow to it, because I like what else I am.
I know that even if I tried with every ounce of courage and hatred I have built up over my years to demolish my love for you, the dust would clear,
And it would be the only thing about me left.
And I don't want it to be.
I don't respect it enough to let it be my defining factor.
And so I sit and stew and wait, for it to loosen its stranglehold, or for you to come back.
It is a prideless thing. And I am a proud person.
And it chafes every single day.
And I swallow it, and go on.

You'll leave scars on my hands--
I promised you.
Just wait.
And everyone who ever holds them
Kisses them
Or glances at them will see
The evidence of you.
Try to force me to forget you
And I will put you on my skin.
Control
*That.

I don't tell you very often, but you're a really inspiring person,
And you're one of the people
(if not the person)
I admire most in the world.
You mean a lot more to me than I ever tell you.
We don't get into feelings a lot in person, I guess. It's just not part of our dynamic.
We talk about ideas and thoughts, but not necessarily how we feel about each other.

Often times before I go to sleep I think of you and miss you and want to cry a little because I think
We got lost for too long during our relationship, and I never actually got to tell you
That I love you
In a really special way that I don't think I'll ever love anyone else.
You've probably influenced my beliefs and the way I think more than anyone else,
And I'm really grateful for it,
Because no matter where we are in relation to each other, I always have a really strong connection to you,
Because a little bit of you is a part of me.

I really really hope you do live to be a hundred, or better a hundred and ten, like you said.
Don't start thinking like you're old- you're only as old as you feel.
I like to see you as eternal,
Like a tall tree that has seen every storm and sunny day,
That's always comfortingly there to support you or shelter you as the weather requires.
I know you're not, but I like to see you that way.
Even though I've seen your flaws and weaknesses as I've gotten older,
In my heart you always remain the person
Whose every word I followed without question out on the rocks or in the woods
Because I knew you'd keep me safe.
I guess I really want you to know that, because I've said a lot of things,
But never that you're more important to me than you think you are,
Or that I respect you a lot more than I let on,
Or that sometimes when I'm tired and my day has ****** I want a hug from you so much that I could cry.
In a weird way, you might be the person I'm closest to intellectually and spiritually and philosophically.
I just want you to know that that trust you had from me as a child
Isn't gone at all,
And neither is how much I love you.
I hope I meet many people in my life as extraordinary as you, but I sort of doubt I will.
Even though you have qualities I disagree with,
And you make mistakes,
The way you live your life is something I strive for,
And something I admire.
Every little girl's dad is their hero,
And my childhood sort of prevented me from telling you
That you're mine.

I had a dangerous thought a moment ago.
I have many.
But this one is the kind I would be ashamed to whisper in the dark.
It's this:
Every time I am suffering,
Every time I'm slipping,
I look at those tattoos on my hips,
And even if I hate every single thing about myself,
(Which I rarely do, but those moments do come)
I remember that I have something of you with me.
Something of you in my skin.
And I can't destroy something that beautiful.
I can't hate something that perfect.
I save myself from the worst of myself by remembering
That a part of me is yours,
Sacred,
And must be treated accordingly.
If that is not a terrifying way to love somebody,
I don't know what is.

The second your bare skin
Touched mine
I knew I would be craving that feeling of perfect wholeness
For the rest of my life.

It is not your anger I fear.

Yours is hot like molten gold, deadly and quick,
The strike of a snake, a venom that sticks.
Its fiery acid eats its way through my veins,
But your anger is quick like the tide, like the rain.

It's your pain that I fear,

Frozen down to the core,
A mountain of glass to be thawed nevermore.
It's sharp and it's empty, it cuts to my heart
And as long as I wait, it is just at its start.

It's your black eyes that I fear,

Hollowed out and accusing.
Thin black ice over cold depths, brittle but unmoving.
If I don't step with care I'll be falling forever,
Your hate and your love tearing in equal measure.

It's your rawness I fear.

I've never seen it, you see.
It glares like the sun off the snow, blinding me.
You love me enough that you loathe me in spades
And in your eyes you're on your knees, bitter, digging my grave.

It's seeing it that scares me-

I thought your heart never showed,
In your eyes, in your voice, it's all killing me slow.
You're a mountain, a fortress, you don't show your hurt,
But all I see in your eyes is your form in the dirt

Clawing out of your coffin like I did back then.
I didn't know I could cause your serenity's end.
I didn't know you could cry over someone like me.
Didn't know I'd see it in your eyes, deep like the rolling sea.

I didn't know that you loved me if you'd throw me away.
I never know if you mean any words that you say.
Of love or of hate, are they true? Are they lies?
But I saw proof of both in your charcoal cold eyes.

Now your anger has eaten up all of its fuel,
But your pain is enduring, a deep dark silent pool.
And I'm drowning inside it, but somehow I know
I won't believe in your love, no matter which way this goes.

Don't waste a second.
Look at her face
Memorize it.
Touch every inch of her
As if she is the most beautiful
Perfect thing ever to grace your presence.
Laugh with her
But always make sure you watch her laugh
So that you can save up those sunny memories
For the rainy days of your life.
Buy her things.
Give her anything and everything she wants
Things she would never ask for
That you know would make her smile
Give her everything you can
Every single day.
Hold her when she's sad.
Wipe her tears away.
Forgive her when she is cruel-
Life has been unkind to her.
Understand when she is petty.
She does not trust easily.
Don't waste a second.
If you fight
And you will fight
Because if you do all of this for her
She will be afraid to love you without hating you
If you fight
Let her win.
Nothing is more important than her kiss
Her arms
Her smile.
No pride is worth losing that.
No argument is worth knowing that someone else will be the cause of her laughter
Because she has turned away from you.
When you sleep next to her,
Put your arm around her.
When you wake up
Look at her for a moment in the morning light
Because it catches the gold in her skin and makes her glow
Like she is dawn itself
And it shadows the little space just under her lips
Making her look young and peaceful.
Don't forget that look.
Don't forget how lovely she is,
How alive,
How inspiring.
Don't let your time with her
Dull your wonder for her.
You
Have something so incredible.
Do
Not
Waste
A
Second.
And if someday she leaves you
And you are hurt
Forgive her.
Treasure her.
Treasure the time you got.
Comfort yourself with the fact that you DID these things,
That you gave of yourself
So utterly and so purely
That a part of you will always be with her.
Love like that
Never really leaves.
If she leaves you,
Try to let her leave.
You won't want to.
You will feel like someone is ripping your heart out
With the veins still attached and stretching.
You will want to hate her
And you will be sick with wishing you didn't.
But if she leaves you,
Try to love her anyway.
She is...
She's like the sun.
You will
Get burned.
There is no way around it.
But without the sun
No life exists.
No beauty.
No warmth.
No pleasure.
No growth.
No us.
She is brutal
And she is beautiful
And she is
The most incredible thing
You will ever touch
So touch her
Touch her as often and as gently as you can.
Make her feel loved.
Let her feel free.
Do whatever it is that you can do
That I can't.
You will never read this
But I hope you hear it somehow.
This
Is your chance.
This is your chance to love the woman of your life.
The person who will change everything.
The girl the universe revolves around.
This is your moment to give her
Whatever you can
And hope it is
Enough.
Don't
Waste it.

-Me.

Dear Sky,
Help me open my heart.
I know what to wish for
All this time later.
She was in my arms last night,
And I had no wishes then,
Not a one,
And if there was a sky,
I could not have cared less.
Tonight I know what to wish for.
You are cold and clear
And the haze is gone
And I want
To fall into this love
Without fear lurking below me like a safety net of needles.
Please, help me give up that instinct
To turn to stone at the first sign of trouble.
Help me relinquish my misgivings and my doubts
That I clutch like weapons against the calm and joy I feel
In her arms,
Because we both know that if the end is coming
It will come whether or not I see it miles off.
Please,
Blind me with the light of her smile.
Let me see this moment,
Let me see what I have
And not what I could lose.
Help me unzip my skin and lay in the moonlight
Bare and honest
Exposed down to the weakest little corner of my soul.
Help me find the courage to believe the best of this world
With its barbed wire edges,
Even with.
If I give my heart to these cold stars
And set aside the fear and doubt
If I show you courage
Will you show me comfort?

You see beauty
With such exquisite venom.
Vicious
To the pungent flowers,
The sun's morning rays,
The grin of a loved one.
Full of animosity
Where others are full of mewling awe.
Your hatred for living is thick in my fingers like velvet,
Your snarling words
Hot
So
Clear
Like liquor.
It burns and cleanses, medicinal and fiery and somehow truer for its blinding harshness.
Dear Sylvia,
Teach me how to see the world I love
With loathing.
It overwhelms me as it
Overwhelmed you.
Visceral,
Your words cringe from loveliness
And exalt the brutal little moments of life
That everyone else hurries to forget.
I want that wrongness
To live in me
Alongside all the other
Wrongnesses.
I am through trying to be right so that my loves may endure me.
Sylvia,
Teach me to be sadistic.