I’ve spent the past week utterly confused and heartbroken over what you did to me. Something so heinous and cold hearted that as much as I am angry at you, I still miss you just as much. I am conflicted daily as every waking moment I am devoured by thoughts of you and that incident, repeating infinitely over and over again. Such cruelty should be for those that deserved that treatment, not to someone who loved and cared about you more than you realized. All I can do is sum it up in the following:
Night fell on me writing this and I ran out of paper so I crossed the name out at the top of the page. Not sure why I’m even writing this. But I guess it feels right. It sort of feels like I have to, like an exorcism. I guess that makes me sound crazy but that’s all right. I used to feel like everything was perfectly in order, a normal life, but I guess then came a departure.
That I know you understand (or would’ve understood?). I guess things changed after that, and I’m mostly scared now. It’s all there in the pages ahead of here. Its there waiting for you.
Or for me. I’m not sure. The whole story. Everybody wants a reason for everything. It’s so much easier with someone or something to blame. I guess that’s why I’ve always turned to writing it down. Not just in stories, but the letters in between. And I guess that’s why it haunts the pages of everything-
to self-examine. Every reason to leave this place behind, why I should be alone are made of flesh and bone. After sundown, before sleeping, I am the worst of me. I am a mess of these
Old themes and the murmur of half-dreams whisper seductively. It’s fear fiction, these visions, caught somewhere between delusion and prophesy. What I haven’t done, what I’ve wanted to, and what I fear you have, becomes reality here. See, all the secrets I keep, why are they secrets? It’s only temporary, that fleeting feeling of warmth, Just a flash before the line gets blurry, Between a longing for more than what the body wants now and what the body wants now more than anything. Was it integrity that kept my hands to myself or just the thought of getting too far ahead of you? Was it that I got too tired of the consequence? Or was I just scared? I only know I never wanted to get left behind. It’s true, I’ve made a tale of it here, still, it’s a little unclear who’s been haunting who. And time can be such a funny thing, always moving to the future glorifying the past and amplifying the pain in frames and glass. So was our touch half as sacred as I’ve made it seem or just another fabrication of a half-dream? Just those chemicals, the adolescent love. I had a reason for the writing, but trying to exorcise my demons didn’t work.
To try to rid me of the worry and to purge you out of wonder for the future and the hurt. I think I saw you in my sleep, darling,
I think I saw you in my dreams you were Stitching up the seams on every broken promise that your body couldn’t keep. I thought I heard a plane crashing, but now I think it was your passion snapping. I think I saw you in my sleep, lover, I think I saw you in my dreams you were Stitching up the seams on every mangled promise that your body couldn’t keep. I know that someday you’ll be sleeping, Darling, likely dreaming off the pain. I swear that even with the distance, slowly wearing at your name, your hands still catch the light the right way and our hearts still beat the same. I guess loves a funny thing—the way it fades away without a warning. It doesn’t ask to be excused. And when it’s gone it isn’t supposed to come back. Now at the end of everyday I lie awake at night and wait To feel the wires of my brain get cut and quietly rearranged, and Hear my beaten heart exclaim, ‘Still, I refuse to let her go.’” So we escape to our mistakes for they wait patiently for us. Oh, how they always wait for me. But I held your heart in my fingers though now it’s gone, it’s gone, it’s gone and you will never admit that you bid the wind blow the flames out and buried the coals in the sea, you tricked me. You came back and you brought floods wearing a necklace made of hearts that you’d dragged through the mud and I guess I wasn’t quite sure what to say to you But then I saw mine, almost reached out to grab it said, darling, you’re the only one on earth I want to have it but now I’m not so sure that was true, after the hell you put it through but there was no sharp pain this time. Just the ghost of your presence compressing my chest like a vine an unshakable absence Like most of my insides crawled out of my mouth and went west, but that’s fine. You moved like a fire through the forest your hands were as red as the skin on your lips, you’d been flirting with distance. I believe in it still It has faltered and it has faded But I know it’s there. How’d it change? The way you thought of me? How strange to think we once were lovers now we’ve wrapped the past up in broken glass. We are not our losses. We are only the extent to which we love. I can only say for sure that when it makes your bed I’ll kiss your head “Goodnight.” So speak of all the love we lost, and what it cost us. We’ve watched our passions leave, but we’re still breathing on. I’ll hold you, as you have held me, you’ve held me in your heart. (And I will hold you in my heart) Some days I swear I can hear you sing to me or whisper my name in the slightest way. It’s like the warmest light now laid across my bedroom floor is somehow actually you and some days I swear I can feel you splitting the light through the window frame. The shapes it makes are always warmer, always brighter than the rest of what comes through. Not just sunlight. Some nights are a lot like the days, I lay awake too late, I watch the shadows casted Trace your shape. Those silver slivers on the wall then on the bed sheets. I hear your song in the trees. I finally fall into rest. Often later when I’m sleeping you show up in my dreams. Just doing simple things, like buying groceries. And when I wake up I could swear you must’ve just left me Like you got up to make breakfast or maybe just to get dressed. But the truth is, you were never there. You won’t ever be. Sometimes I think I’m not either so what do I do When every day still seems to start and end with you? And you won’t ever know, you won’t ever see, How much your ghost since then has been defining me. But if I still hear you singing in every city I meet, after I blur it all out, our every memory, if you never fade with the days, your shape still haunting me then.