I wonder what last night was like for you . Did you stop in for a bite to eat after a long night of work? Were you up all night studying for an exam, with the company of stale coffee out of a stained mug? Did you just finish a long workout and need some water? -the waiter must have taken a few minutes longer than expected; your cup is overflowing and the ice has melted in the sun, which reflects rays of light through your messy hair laying all over the table. I can’t see your face; I wonder what you look like. Are your cheeks pink and is your lipstick smudged from a long night of romance? Maybe it wasn’t romance at all, that’s sad. Speaking of sad, maybe your eyes are puffed and blackened from a recent heartbreak. Did you just experienced sorrow? Maybe there’s blood smeared beneath your nose, from a fight….or too much blow. Are you beautiful? I wonder what a beautiful woman would be doing in a dump like this. Did you come here to get away from home? Do you have children who won’t let you rest, or a lover you fear? I wonder if you’re happy. You shake a little in your sleep, I wonder what you’re dreaming about, or what it is that you do on days when you’re not sleeping in that booth. Are you stressed? Did you just get fired from your job? Maybe you quit a job and you’re fueling for your next big adventure. I wish I could see your face. If I saw you again, I could ask these questions, although that might be strange. It’s kind of wonderful that your identity is hidden really. You could be anyone. Maybe you’re my sister, or my friend. You could even be someone I really dislike. Perhaps I’ve never met you but I’ll see you again. Or maybe I never will. You could be me. Maybe I’m floating, out of my own skin. Unrecognizable, there you are: sleeping, dreaming, drifted away; you’re in a small diner all alone in that booth, the loudness of others surrounding you, but you’re so serenely secluded it’s like nothing else exists. I’m curious what life is like for you when finally wake. I wonder if you ever will. Or if you even want to.
NOTE: Not everything I write is based on facts of this very moment. I could be writing about something in the past, something I fantasize for a better or even a dystopian future. I could write about events all together un-true, (a little thing we call) fiction. It was brought to my attention that I needed to justify my free-verse, which in any case, I never have to censor or look over my shoulder for approval anyway. Open up your minds.
In the grocery store I meet a man. He comments on my brand of orange juice and I shoot him a sarcastic eye. When I glance at him, finally not stung with the memory of you on my mind, I’m pleased. I find a sarcastic charm in his dry comment, and a kindness in his eyes. We meet again, another day…but this time it’s planned. We laugh, and as we walk alone he grazes at a tangle caught in my hair. There’s a silence, but not unwanted, more so, sensually charged; I walk along again to keep the evening respectable. Meetings like this continue, until one day, he’s resting on my couch, (or me on his) and we’re comfortable. There’s an easement to our presence and flirtatious gestures are passed between us to and fro. Our lips meet after he hands me a drink that I nearly drop while laughing at a silly commercial. Me at my finest, of course. But he notices something. Whether it’s my humility or the fact that he may have just in that moment seen me truly happy for the first time, I don’t know. There’s a powerful rise from our body’s. We touch, and not just a little, crashing together in a wave of longing. Forehead to forehead we lay awake in the night. Both having loved prior to this current engagement, we feel the strangeness of hindsight, that those heartbreaks are now mere shadows of darkened pasts. We’re glowing together. Bare and entwined. Here, we share a secret code-like smile as if to say we both know. Forever kept between us, will be the silent telepathic bond of letting go, and starting new.
Once upon a time we were happy. We had a burning desire and we were so full of love that everyone around us was either joyous for our fulfilled souls, or completely envious that we had something that they were lacking.
Two years later I lay awake alone with the glow of an empty computer screen aching my tear drenched eyes. I don’t know where we went wrong. I don’t know why I wasn’t enough or what you need to search for out in the vast, dangerous world.
What I do know is that as fucked up as I can be in spitting my pointless rage, I’m as equally hurt.
I honestly don’t expect anyone to understand; in order to understand they would have to have been me from the core, watching my mother pick up the pieces of her heart as well as sheltering mine from a man sworn to her, just for him to leave. They would have to remember the other men before you, that you promised never to be, that whispered wonderful words of woe just to cancel themselves out of my life, leaving their own thick scar across my sanity. They would have had to been with you and I through every sleepy promise and every plan we compromised together, followed by every session of intense love making. They would need to understand the nights I spent alone waiting, wishing, and anxious for the day we would be together for good. They would have had to seen my face when you told me what I’ve been waiting for with you…was never ever going to happen. They would have to be me, but they’re not, so passing judgment is plain out unfair.
I don’t know if I’ll ever recover from this one. Right now, it sure as fuck doesn’t feel like it. I’m lost, I’m invisible, and I’m absolutely sick of myself. …Not so happily ever after, after all.
I wanted to write. Rivers full of words that have been gathering in my heart. I finally sat down to do so, and there is so much that not a single thought is able break through the gates of words I’ve built in my head to shelter myself. They’re trapped and aggravated, cramming together and building up a pile higher and higher and thicker and fuller than the mind can capacitate. Frustration ensues and a river, not of words, but of a liquid both warm and salty, creates a waterfall of scathing proportions which flows past a barrier of lashes and crashes all around me. This I cannot stop. The words trapped inside change their form to escape my body in an all together different way.
I’ve been there. I know that feeling. You arise from a dead cold sleep in the middle of the night, stomach wrenching, head spinning, and wondering ‘why’? Your pillow has wet stains on it, and not from anything thrilling; no. It’s damp from the tears that you’ve been trying to control, but your subconscious soul let’s them pour away the pain while the rest of your body is at rest. You get out of bed, pace around the room for a while, thinking of all the shitty things you remember, but they’re out-shined by the great memories and you bury your head in your hands once more, pulling your hair as you scream out in frustration. You want to throw up. Maybe some music will help. Every fucking song reminds you of it. Fuck that, you turn the tunes down. You sit there in silence. You, your thoughts, and the clock ticking on the wall…after a while, maybe a week, maybe months later…the pain stops.
You’ll never forget the feeling, it’s an all-too familiar frienemy. I think the reminder of the heartache is a sad blessing. It closes you off a bit, gives you a guard that seven kingdoms couldn’t break through. In truth, you may never love the same, feel, or be that person you once were again…but dammit, does it make you strong. It helps assist your now wiser mind to choose with more perspective when the time comes again. You’ll now know exactly what you want, and there will be no settling for less than what you now know that you deserve.
Just hang in there, wrestle your heart around a bit, scream ‘fuck’, cry a ton, kick stones, and let it out. Just keep in mind, there will be a moment when you don’t feel that stabbing pain anymore, when your smiles will stem naturally and your days wont be consumed with cynical thoughts. A certain kind of peace reigns over you, and your heart is reborn.
It’ll happen, trust me.
Sometimes we wake up with smeared mascara and alcohol on our breath.
Sometimes we wake up with texts from our grandmother and reach out for a book to read.
Sometimes we wake up with white noise from the tv buzzing in our ears and we’re half or wholly naked.
Sometimes we wake up with drool streaming from our lips and a hunger in our stomach.
Sometimes we wake up with strange men, and sneak away silently grabbing articles as we escape.
Sometimes we wake up with our pets licking the bottoms of our feet, and we laugh while kicking them away.
Sometimes we wake up in the sun, and run into the ocean to cool off our skin.
Sometimes we wake up with our phones ringing violently and begin to dream again about throwing it across the room, before waking up to it’s call.
Sometimes we wake up crying from heartbreak and the realization of hardship.
Sometimes we wake up late and spring from the bed like a fire was lit under our ass.
Sometimes we wake up happy, and dance around our rooms with the light of morning shining through a curtain.
Sometimes we wake up in the night, and scream at a terror, or squeeze the person next to us, bringing them closer.
Sometimes we wake up to a lover, and the dance begins again…if you know what I mean.
Sometimes we wake up with yesterdays’ work scattered all around us, and we put it off for later.
Sometimes we wake up to children jumping in our bed, and tugging at our arms.
Sometimes we wake up to breakfast in bed, and the smiling faces of our family.
Sometimes we wake up anxious for an event, and rehearse words in our head to ease the stress.
Sometimes we wake up in warm pajamas on a cold morning and bundle on the couch with a cup of coffee and morning television, music, or a read.
Sometimes we wake up, and we do so in a variety ways across the board. One day, after all these ‘sometimes’, we will find ourselves waking up in a different sense of the word; unearthed. Envelop the kaleidoscope of every humanistic morning, afternoon, or evening after having rest, and enjoy the simplicity of your very own, unique ‘sometimes’.
I was google ‘earthing’ NYC and LA all day at work today, and holy fucking shit, why am I not there?
I walked silently in the night, a tune streaming through my ears and my heart thumping it’s archaic rhythm; in sync with the song. The stars engulfed me, pulling me in with an alluring glow of pearls amongst the onyx sea. There was a certain silence, even with the instrumental harmony at full volume, that made me feel like I was at one with the stars at that very moment. The one, the only one. A big sky, millions of lights inspecting me individually, holding me under their millions of microscopes, and peering into my soul. A study. I wonder what they concurred…
Today I woke up and everything was fine. The morning light blazed its’ way through my window pane, and my skin reflected the amber which shined all around the small, all-too crowded room. I got dressed, smiled in the makeup-stained mirror and walked myself out the door. The warmth of the September morning in Florida whispered that today was a new day, and it would only go as well as I allowed it. There are no boundaries. No walls, and no limits. I’m allowing myself to be free, feel free, and live free. Today, tomorrow, and all eternal nights and mornings like this to follow.
These moments when I’m sitting alone in my room, wondering what to watch on tv, or what book to read; when I find myself talking to no one, and being accompanied by myself alone. I just want to talk to you and see how your day was, but I know I can’t do that. I want to watch something silly on Netflix and laugh alongside you, but I can’t do that. I want to kick myself for the mean things I’ve said to you, and the complacency I’ve held in my longing for your physical presence. My frustrations have boiled over and turned me into a different person, and I know that. I’ve been a whirlwind of emotions. Coming and going from one extreme to the next. Wanting to live fast and free, but still keeping you on my mind. You just haven’t been here, and it’s been a killer to me, and to us. You’re my best friend, and things shouldn’t have to be this way but they are. You’re leaving, I’m staying here, and nothing in this world can change that fact. I know you want me to come with you, but I can’t do that; just like I want you to come home for good finally…but you can’t that. Star-crossed lovers, never in the right place, and never at the right time. So I’ll sit here in silence, with the lonely glow of a blank computer screen looking back at me, and continue to miss you, continue to question “what’s next”, and watch a silly show on Netflix…just alone this time.
An unfamiliar silence fills the air, and I’ll drift off to another restless night of sleep.
I guess I’m a little darker then the light shining around me. One fucked up, walking contradiction of selfishness, stubbornness, and confusion.
Well, that’s me. At least I’m honest with myself.
I wish you could see how much I miss you. I wish you could feel it, the way I do right now. The way my bones ache a certain way and my heart beats slower, and my eyes are red and won’t stop flowing, and my nose keeps sniffing the crimson color glowing. I walked into my room and stared at my bed, at its emptiness and loneliness, and it was like looking into glass, reflecting back into me. I thought for a second that you would be here with me in just a little while, so I piped up and smiled and laid down in the lonely bed. The longer I sat there in silence, the quicker I realized, no, you won’t be here tonight, you won’t kiss me as you walk through the door, sitting down to take off your boots, and reflect upon your day. My heart broke a little, no, a lot inside, and I questioned if we took for granted the short amount of time we had together. Of course we didn’t. We embraced it, I reminded myself. Time, just never lasts long enough when it comes to things like that, and when it comes to things like this, sitting alone and longing for the person you love, it seems to never move. I’m the anchor to a broken pendulum. I wish you would know that I’m not unhappy, that’s not what this is about. Yes, I’m sad, I miss you already, but I’m also happy because I love you and I know in my heart you love me the same way back and I’ve never had that feeling of ‘knowing’ with anyone else. It’s nice.
I wish I could tell you this as we laugh beside each other, I wish you could watch me laying here, writing this to you, I wish you could feel how much I love you in every way, I wish you could see how much I miss you, and it hasn’t even been a day.