I've become acutely aware of the gravity in the fact that all I said to her was that I don't want to be the one who starts all of our conversations anymore And that since then we have had no conversations. I don't think I will be rid of the haunting that this is my fault until I am haunted with the fact that it may be hers In so making her not the woman I wanted for Nor the woman I was all too eager to give myself for Thirdly making me that man who opened his rib cage exposing his heart for her taking Only to collect dust, rain drops, and those twisty helicopter things that fall from trees in the autumn All from being left open so long on a very windy day when she saw what my heart was stretching to offer her and chose to leave it there Couldn't I once be the one worth taking Or at least notice when she's not the one worth opening up for.
There are days I wish God hadn’t built me with a zipper for a sternum You know I don’t always mean to show them everything It’s just sometimes I forget to zip it back up after I take it on walks to the liquor cabinet My heart is a bow-tie drinking Manhattans at the center table with a chair full of friends and a twinkle in his eye My tongue is a rolled up cuff drinking whatever’s on special at the end of the bar confusing, “I’ll have another” with proper conversation My mind has an unplugged mini fridge in the corner with two luke-warm ciders waiting for a chance to celebrate...remembering to brush my teeth Depression is a funny sort that way, it’s all her fault, right up until you remember how hard it is to brush your teeth everyday At which point it’s either your own fault, or we’ll try again tomorrow.
Knowing is not half the battle when the battle is not being waged in your head Knowing it is all going wrong is just another reason to never put on the helmet and see what the battle may bring Seeing what right looks like on Pintrest is not motivation to check my zippers It is the battle cry my stomach gives my lungs after lunch It is the battle cry the fists of my mind give my heart when we are alone It is a crop duster driven by the Morton’s Salt Girl, who never misses the open wounds of my torn innards strewn about an open field after losing the battle for the day. I am a slug on your porch and I shrink with every grain And you will never hear me scream It’s just so tiring to tell someone you hurt and have no blood to prove it.
I do not much dream for stars or skinny girls anymore I am afraid of what their sharp edges will do to my fingertips I’m just looking for something I can hold on to Someone who will remind me that I have a place here If that place is only to take up oxygen Sometimes I let my dreams get away from themselves and I dream of great magical things: Like being loved back Feeling important Sleeping peacefully
On occasions I even see myself at work opening a love note in my lunchbox from someone who felt compelled to take the time to tell me they love me It always swells my heart Makes me want to be a better person To get out of bed Run a marathon Sing an opera Lift a weight Sky dive Read a book High five a stranger Take a dancing class But then I wake up and look across my room at just how far away the light switch is and decide I must be afraid of the dark Since I never remember to turn off the light before lying down and I never have the strength to get back up
I dream most of all of having someone to tell me the things I need to hear To give me a purpose A vision A reason to live To stop letting me find better excuses To yell in my ear or write me a note that says, “You are worth it, every minute, every cent, every effort. You are worth it, because you will become a great man and because I love you, and because you are destined to change my world, and because your son needs you, and because you are brilliant, and because the world needs your words, because I need your words”
But the only notes I get are the ones I put into my own lunchbox as a reminder come noon-time That even if for no other reason than because I said so, I am worth it
A collection of poems by me is available on Amazon Where She Left Me - Michael DeVoe http://goo.gl/5x3Tae