Untapped Potential

An artist is not paid for his labor but for his vision. - James Whistler

[nesiresi]

the last time I saw you, the day before you left

(only fifteen days after we’d first met)

I sat next to you at a campsite breakfast and asked

“hey, what exactly is it that you’re allergic to?”

you chewed and swallowed and slowly told me

eggs

tree nuts

and shellfish

which I repeated back just as slowly

three of the big eight

it didn’t matter for me to know, really

considering you were hours away from returning to your packed up house and driving thousands of miles away

why should I care?

who knew when I’d see you again?

I know this might sound crazy

wild and unhinged

but I look at the ingredients on everything I eat since then

I’ve looked up modified recipes to all my favorite foods I’d make you

that I will make you

one day

except shrimp and grits

there’s no way to make that for you

I think of changed recipes

and unmade d&d characters

and all the times I wanted to kiss you but didn’t

coupled with all times we did

I think of your side profile laying next to me in a tent

while your eyes shone with the clearest blue I’ve ever seen

(and I think about how we went camping after only knowing one another for two weeks)

you caught me so off guard

reminded me of who I was, who I’ve become

I won’t forget you

though I don’t think you’ll let me

I’ll write the letters and send the texts

make you socks and beanies too

and when we meet again, I’ll make a feast for us both

no eggs

or tree nuts

or shellfish

[nesiresi]

i want to be vulnerable. i want to be honest. i want to hear apologies from transgressions committed four years ago and the ones from two years ago as well. i want to cry and scream and list every little reason why i never would have thought you cared. i want to make you feel as bad as you once made me feel. i want to see you broken by the things you once told me. and then finally - finally - i want to say “let’s leave that in the past” the way you always do.

i want to know how to say all this to you. and i just want us

[nesiresi]

recent moods.

i haven’t been honest with you. I’ve been surreptitious and clandestine and illicit and other synonyms. i sit around late at night and breathe in the smell of pure soap and something akin to the sheets in my childhood home. it’s funny how much i made fun of stories; you can’t really pin down a person’s scent. but this one i know like the back of my hand. don’t touch my face. don’t look at me like i’m a god. even marble statues can break. do you also wish for another life? or am I really as alone in this as i often feel. i guess what i’m trying to say is i don’t trust you. i don’t trust myself

[nesiresi]

I hate crying in front of people.

This isn’t a unique thought or feeling. I’m not the first person who hates crying in front of others and I damn sure won’t be the last. There’s nothing special about that statement or anything I’ll say thereafter in this text.

But I hate crying in front of people.

Each droplet spilling over my bottom lids, trailing down my checks, nose, and chin feels like a betrayal when in occurs in the company of another human. There it is, an illuminated billboard loud and clear: I am weak. I am fragile. I need support.

I hate the burden of wanting to feel strong all the time. I would like to be unafraid of being fragile and breakable. After all, I am often broken. There should be no shame in admitting that. We are all broken people with scars held together from the support of those around us. Kintsugi made of friends and family rebuilding our shattered mind, body, and spirit.

I hate crying in front of others.

I get better at it, I swear. But it’s slow going. But maybe if I cried in front of others I could be held and healed. Maybe if I were strong enough to bleed out in front of everyone, I wouldn’t have to bleed at all.

I hate crying in front of others. But I did it tonight and the night before and it was amazing. It was exactly what I needed to begin to heal

[nesiresi]

No More Masks

I can’t look people in the eye

And I get nervous when they want to talk about the deep stuff

(I get nervous when they only want to make forced small talk as well)

I can only socialize when I drink but that means I have to drink every day

So I worry about my body and if I’m loving it the right way

Is my brain content and calm or am I just desperately wishing it will be

I turn my head when people talk to me

Like I saw something interesting over their shoulder

While they stare into me like they can see all the shards inside that hurt me as much as they protect me

At least I think they protect me

Maybe I made that up like I made up loving those around me

When I can’t stand to be around people I once thought I cared for

But when is it time for me to care for myself

I can’t look people in the eye

I can feel myself shrivel away inside when I do–

My spirit detaching itself from my flesh as it tries to get away

–and it makes me ache deep in the core of me and realize just how much I’ve been a charlatan

[nesiresi]

Everything feels wrong

My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth and you look at me like I contain all the answers. I can’t even tell you who I am because I don’t know. Maybe I’ve never known. But you continue to look at me like nothing ever made sense until you laid eyes on me and it hurts because I’m such a sham. I have never been anyone to anybody. And I know what she’s told me time and time again about absolutes and false realities but she doesn’t know me. She’s another victim.

Do not smile at me and touch me and hold me and love me and want me and think of me in ways that I don’t deserve. We are poisonous. I’ll shed my skin and keep going forward until I don’t hurt anymore. Maybe I’ll go away forever. And you won’t look because I asked you not to.

I don’t know what to say to the pain of others. I run from my own. Shutter it up in the basement where it creaks and moans and rattles. You all hear it. Every day until it can’t be ignored but when you undo the deadbolts and throw open the door, there’s absolutely nothing in the recesses beneath the floorboards. It’s been absorbed into the bedrock, part of the earth and foundation.

It feels wrong. But it’s also felt right for the first time in weeks. So maybe there’s a balance. Maybe hope is not hopeless nor frivolous. Maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe

Maybe is enough

[nesiresi]

I wish I had a house and a room full of plants. A wall of windows to look out at the garden. And no neighbors in sight. I want fruit trees. And a fishing pond. And wildflowers. And yellow dresses and orange sunsets and red lips curved up in a truly peaceful smile

It’s nice to wish. It’s nice to dream.

[nesiresi]

how simple is a touch

when it won’t be felt again until the cold of autumn sweeps away the lazy, sweaty heat of the summer where it was founded

the cool creeps in

first on your side of the bed

then in my heart

and finally in the air of the city that aches for me, for you, for us being apart

it’s a greek tragedy and great romance

hades and persephone

yet nature mourns and waits for our reunion instead of in reverse

it’s not so simple, is it

a net of love and constancy now unraveled around a bleeding heart

seeking the soft gossamer thread

wrapped in a gentle embrace

tangled in fingers and legs

it’s simple

it’s intricate

it’s all encompassing and nothing at all

it is ours

[nesiresi]

Where do all the days go when you’re lost in sadness? It slips away while you waste away and suddenly the so-called best years have passed you by. Then you have to backtrack to get back some kind of normal footing. But all you know is the whoosh of passing time in your ears. You aren’t sixteen anymore. But you feel the same. You’re twenty-five now. But you’re so far behind. Time moved forward but you stayed as you were. Scared, hurt, and unable to grow.

What a waste of time. Lost and never able to be found again. Push back or stay stuck. No one cares either way.

[nesiresi]

Death Ain’t a Sentence, It’s a Clause

I spend my time thinking

In what-ifs and how-comes

To the point where the past is more present than my future

I eye the exit because it’s my last escape

Last resort

Last choice

All of the above

It’s not my duty nor my job

So I’ll keep quiet now

Keep it down

Spin spirals down your spine like sin

Tell me what my name is again

[nesiresi]

Sometimes I think I see you in a crowded place

Bright smile and brighter freckles

My heart warms at the reunion of us

And I think to myself

“He really looks good, after all this time”

But then I remember you’re long gone

Can’t look at me the same

Steal kisses in corridors

Or give me honey by the jarful just so I can laugh

It was too soon

It was unfair

And there’s nothing I can say to bring you back

But I want to know when this pain will dull

It’s not constant but the flare ups are brutal

I pray we meet again

I promise I’ll spend less time saying

More time doing

I loved you in some kind of way

[nesiresi]

I trickle into golden waves

Making their way to an unknown shore

Sail onward

Sail deftly into the night not seeing the way the moon reflects yellow in your eyes from the surface

Crimson paints your face

And though the waves carry you gently you still would rather be on dry land

Isn’t it safer and more predictable?

If you loved the sea, you salty dog, you would set a map of its every trait

But the land is your home, your way, your rock

It’s hills plotted and valleys explored

Find your shore

You know it well

[nesiresi]

The river not the lake

It’s easier to be washed away

Without a trace

Even after days of searching depths and currents

But it would be better if you didn’t look at all

Didn’t call

Didn’t wonder or worry

Just live as you always have

It’s a blip in the radar

Here one moment and gone the next

How it was meant to be

Don’t care now

Don’t care later

It’s fine the way it was planned

And you said it wouldn’t work

What a wrong time to be wrong

[nesiresi]

‪i dreamt of evergreen knowing the frost would come and freeze it all over‬

‪and you were just a deciduous tree, dropping your love for me and picking it back up when you weren’t afraid anymore‬

‪i wanted to stall the winter and make summer last a lifetime‬

‪i knew i couldn’t‬

‪but i still tried‬

‪i watched as your leaves fell one by one and gathered them in a basket‬

‪i guess i thought i could defy nature and make something grow from what was shed‬

‪i’ve never been a good gardener though so it was futile all along‬

‪it’s a brutal winter‬

‪i’m not expecting you to grow new foliage‬

‪you aren’t evergreen‬

‪i’ll tend to a tree that is instead‬

[nesiresi]

whispering it out loud is

drastically different than yelling it in my head

and my heart now has to admit it

you break me and fix me all at once

timing is a terrible thing and i see we never coordinated

clocks nor calendars

i don’t want your sympathy

but your acceptance’d be nice

[nesiresi]

[nesiresi]

two webs, one spider, all tangled up

You’re my consolation prize and I’m your silver medal. Always second best to someone that’s so easily much better. Could I find a way to change it—speak my mind, be brash and bold—to trade in this graying hue for a more fitting shade of gold?

And I know there’s something hidden there about how I’m gold for someone but it’s starting to feel more and more like I’m buried so deep under the earth’s crust that I’ll never be found. Pressure makes diamonds but I’m still your Christmas lump of coal.

I spend too much time thinking about if you think of me at all...

And the guilt sinks into my skin. How do I tell you it wasn’t what I wanted? How do I say that it was just a run through of motions I have yet to shake from my bones from your bed to your eyes that sink into mine as I take you seeing me as gold as consolation. You’re the wrong one.

It burns my mouth to tell you but it’s the truth. It was a mistake and I should never push my loneliness on you. It was mutual or was it just physical, you being in the right place at the right time? For you at least. I see now that we’ll always be wrong. Or maybe I’m wrong. Some part of me hopes that I am.

Flying from my fingers, I don’t think you ever wanted me. I’m scared to think it. Where does that place me then? Who am I to you? Who am I to me?

A lover of the loveless. Irony at best. Because the loveless is me and I loathe my utter being.