In this subtle clicking of the keys, there is a push. Its digs into me, dives into me, like wings that take me from where my heart had to go. You are loved plays so loud in the background that I almost don’t know how to separate the trauma from the drama. But when all is calm, memories can’t pull me from this cloud. I will not let these pictures torture me, for they play like a 8mm film. It is pixilated, but just right. My eyes only soak in what a child would gain. A child who was raised in a temple.
There you are again. Inside all of my good memories. Like an embedded poem. I watch a memory like I would a piece of cherished paper. Flat but present, there you are again. My hands tare at the ripped seams in our stars. And I’m, I am not sure if you’ve noticed, but some time has past. And I’ve been studying the heart I left in your hands. I spent some time finding all the barriers within myself that I had built against you. I realized that most of our negativity, was caused by the accumulation of the very stars we chose to not let burn out. These barriers within me, I broke. I had nothing against you anymore.
I finally see where you are getting your ink. Its from my heart. It’s from our sacred places. I finally see how the ink became in our book, how it was laid and layered. But I am stuck here, between the very lines you divided.
Can’t see past the lining of my heart, when you won’t open your hands. But there you are again, pulling the grey from my clouds. Two hands on me, god damn, you tare me apart. Constant grey inside your complimentary performance piece. Without you. I am safe from myself and from you. Without you, I am not safe from myself or from you.
Yet, with you… I just, am.
Sometimes you visit me. You leave your house with her and creep into mine with a disguise. I don’t understand you anymore. The gears in you, that I once saw turn, are now still. This frazzles me. Don’t you see, that I can’t understand you when you are not yourself. I wonder why you repeatedly chose her. I wonder if she looks at you, like I did. I wonder if she see’s the constellations in you. I wonder If she understands that they move with heavy responsibility, not only for yourself but for the family you carry. The family that watches and misunderstands. I wonder if she knows, if she knows what you have to do and have had to do for them?
Although I can’t tell you this now, one day I will tell you that I am sorry. I will tell you that there are so many times when I thought all was calm, but it was never enough. Not you, me. My tides took you away, took you away again from me. And I am so sorry, but I cant get up right now and fight for you. Not when the place you call home is with her. I will tell you that I am sorry, that I’m sorry I didn’t show up and remind you who I am to you. I am sorry I didn’t remind you, to look at me. Because I know that when you look at me, you see you too.
I wasn’t yet awake, so you showed me, that you couldn’t stay.
The window cradles thrown out poems. The one’s I’ve mumbled for years. They’re polluted with fantasies and fears. I count on the hands I am thinking of to pull me out of this. I count on the hands that once grabbed me and told me not to let anyone break me again. But, I have one heart tossing me to the corner of a kept woman and one on the radio telling me I am loved. No matter how many times I skip the song, it always finds its way into the most suspicious situations.
Until I can close my eyes again.
I’m here again. Covering up, until I feel high enough. Here again, here in this high, I float. I float and float on her last bit of sleep. I suppose when she finally becomes my moon, my tides will tell me who she is.
Her love echoes this room like a piano in a volt.
2087
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