Monthly Archives: February 2012
Tonight I’ll fall asleep
without being someone’s leg rest,
and the weight of a queen bed
all to myself will make it harder
to get through the next 8 hours.
Oh, the places we’ll never go
and all the years I’ll never know.
I was never a fan of science fiction, fantasy or other worldly ideas or inventions, but I never wanted a time machine more than when I met you. I was convinced you weren’t here for good, here to stay. You did not disappoint, and I was left with an unyielding pining for a craft that would allow me to rewind time, reverse your actions and my words, a metal box that would take me back to when you first noticed I was standing next to you at that concert and invited me over for a drink with your friends, an electrical port that would return me to your sunlit bedroom, sitting on the edge of your mattress and talking about the posters on your dirty walls. While we’re at it, I wouldn’t mind if I had something to freeze time too, so that I could stop everything in that moment, kiss you wholly on the lips without fear that in two months you would never invite me back to spend these days with you again.
You showed off a picture that your mom took when you went home to visit her and the dogs. You were sitting in a lawn chair in your garage, your grandpa’s old motorcycle, broken down in the corner next to rusted nails and hammers and a garden hose that was tangled in knots. A red and white banner was pinned to the wall, and I remembered why you are the reason I love the American flag. The blue in the corner is the years I waited for a simple boy to realize I am an unforgettable girl. The red stripes are smiles, making plans three nights in a row, breakfast sandwiches cut in two, half for me and half for you. Every star is contact with your body– my nose on your cheek, your ear on my shoulder, our feet underneath a table, your fingers, my hair. The white stripes are the space where everything began to drift apart, unanswered phone calls, emails never replied, turning around, and walking away. My flag went up in flames as soon as the sun came out for spring, and my bones grow cold at every flag I see hanging from a pole, and if that’s not love, then I must just be alone.
You said, “Someone still loves you,”
but how could you know?
How could you know if the someone wasn’t you,
if the feelings weren’t rising from the bag of bones
in front of me, boiling underneath the skin you call a body,
in the blood that I tasted when you let me kiss your fingertips
in the aftermath of our first afternoon together,
how could you know?
Feel free to explain,
or tell me how your day was,
or tell me anything
that might help clarify
how I am supposed
to feel, to react
to your normal actions.
You’re an incessant ringing
in both of my ears,
a high-pitched note
that deafens me
and silences the world
until it begins
to sound like
the most beautiful song
I have ever heard.
I love you,
I have loved you,
since I can remember
I don’t love New York.
Why should I?
Of all the places
that have broken my heart,
yours was the break
that hurt the most.
We watched “The Day the Earth Stood Still” in IMAX
and afterwards we walked around to look at all the
Christmas lights on the tallest buildings I had ever seen.
The movie was only good because of Keanu
(I don’t know how to end my childhood obsession)
and the night was only enjoyable because of the caffeine.
Caffeine? It was definitely the caffeine.
Even the good nights leave me with a bitter memory.
I always put too much sugar in my coffee.
I didn’t ask you to fall in love with me
but I guess I should have told you
about the warning signs.
When I smile at something in your direction,
I’m usually thinking about being at home.
When I smile into your eyes,
I’m thinking about how handsome
I think you are with a beard,
but how much I’d rather feel your face.
I took so many pictures of you
in that park with the dogs and the flowers
and everything was lovely, really,
but I wasn’t falling in love, no, maybe, no.
Maybe if I would have stayed home,
If I’d have stayed away,
you wouldn’t have had the chance
to love me.
I cry a lot at night thinking about
other people’s heartaches
and how much better, or how much worse,
they would feel if they knew that
all these tears were spilt for them.