Discover more from It All Burned and Was Light
I wake up in the afternoon
sleep, a struggle
to wake up from nightmarish dreams,
which ensnare me,
visions so real I begin to wonder
if I lost them to time and age and anxiety,
and forgetfulness and stupidity
what else is lost? besides time?
what else is there to lose anyways?
Sun is up
windows have let curious rectangles of light scour the floor
my glazed eyes search for familiarity in this house
a smell, a voice, a shape.
wispy image of you forms in my head
faint yet there,
but you are not to be found
it doesn't surprise, though something sinks in the pit of my stomach.
You moved away, yet the vacancy you left still stares at me,
in half emptied cupboards and cabinets,
in folds of bed covers and curtains of your choice.
You are gone. Yes,
not accusing, not comforting,
just a fact, cold and uncaring,
like millions of miles of space swarming with dead rocks.
There was a picture on the nightstand that is gone with you
— a slice of time we caught in a pretty frame —
two of us laughing in a cornfield under the fading sun
you, wrapped in my arms, glowing, whispering
do you remember it differently? I never asked you
it always seemed like we remembered things differently.
our lives intertwined like snakes
waking late in the morning on weekends
and squabbling over who would make breakfast
and who would clean the apartment. Jesus.
Remember? endless talks in a room swimming in cigarette smoke,
and that one time when you ran and jumped on the table,
because the ugliest fattest rat anyone ever saw scurried by your feet
the chilling cold and us wrapped into each other for an eternity
all that and some more…still with me here.
But then, somewhere cracks started to form
in us, between us, around us
we were broken earth under the sun, dying of thirst
our presence became heavy, deliberate, obtrusive
and we talked because we had to
to prove to ourselves:
we were still connected, still in love,
but however much we went to movies, shopping, and partying,
the heaviness never left,
and one day when I told you I felt alone with you,
and that this was not what I wanted,
you cried, and then I cried
you said you were sorry and that you felt the same.
Days have turned into weeks.
I haven’t heard from you.
I don’t know if there is any point waiting,
but hey, for old times sake I hope you are really happy.
I want to tell you that.