Snapshot!
Previously...
Kalypso   —   Personal

I don't think of you often. My life is full and busy and good. I am happy. Different. Changed. The same. I don't think of you often...

But when I do, it's like going blind. My hands grope along the wall and through empty space, trying to find familiarity, searching for something to hold onto, something to embrace. But it's an empty room. It's cold and smooth and devoid of personality. I remember that it once had light, had warmth, had love. But it's like knowing there's a universe of planets spinning all around us. You take on faith what you cannot see.

If I try to remember how the cracks appeared I draw a blank. One day we were fine. The next day it's like we were never who we once were. I remember the pain mostly. The ache of being invisible to you. The abandonment I felt. The confusion of why. What did I do? How could you do this? I was angry. I was probably hurtful. I don't remember.

I don't think of you often. But I dream about you all the time. And I always wake up crying. I mostly dream that I'm in trouble and asking for your help. Either I'm lost or late or being stalked or followed. I run into you somewhere, along the way, wherever that is, and you passingly acknowledge me. After a while you agree to help but then you never do. Mostly it's just me trying to get your attention and you ignoring me like an annoying child tugging at your skirt. Those dreams end with me screaming.

I've experienced your death about a dozen times. There's always shock. Confusion. Denial. I'm surrounded by your friends, who are strangers to me, and, like you, they barely even notice I'm there. I'm inconsolable. I go to your funeral. I literally wake up sobbing.

The last dream I had of your death was three days ago. There's been a little black cloud following me around ever since. I'm always surprised by the pain I still feel when I think of you. I assume I'm over it and then out of nowhere, there it is again, that forgotten ache of loss. It's a shame that our years of laughter and love are overshadowed by our dissolution. But relationships are messy. And breakups are a fucking slaughterhouse.

I've had the poem that I wrote for you running through my head:

THE CONVENT OF THE SACRED HEART
I will love you forever
or do you know?
Like a bruised peach from a fallen limb.
I die and rot,
I fertilize and grow
another limb with a ripened peach.
A sinful kiss,
you and I.
When the dawn hits the sky
like watercolors
squirming
within the porcelain walls
of a bathing tub.
Your ivory skin,
vanilla skin,
scented with spring flower tears.
Wayward ocean,
mermaids melody,
come hither
floating in the sea.
Yes, you my queen.
On your seaweed boat,
a crown made of conch shells,
a sand dollar necklace.
Your throne of coral.
I love you still.
Shall my love be in vain?
I fear it may, I fear it not.
Time lapse does a dance
as I throw myself to memory.
Pressing walls of compassion
with blankets and sheets,
twisting and turning till my flesh bleeds.
I grow old
playing chess
upon your breasts
my speech a chatter
my hair a silver snow.
Your words Band-Aid any wound I carry.
I nuzzle your hair,
drifting to a dreamer’s planet.
Curling within the womb.
Just a lullaby,
each lesson I learn.
Such is you,
as am I.
You are home to me,
and so there I shall reside.

~ Doll

Posted 5.23.2013 12:00:35 AM



Oh, baby!
Newer Post
  Stumptown Comics Fest 2013
Older Post


Horror Movie Reviews

Movies in the Dark