Wednesday, April 25, 2018

you surprised or what

I used to write about you all the time.

Every time, in fact. I wrote about you because I wanted you, I needed you. You made me feel like wings (not chicken) and you always gave me a hug whenever I was upset. Somehow, you knew when you looked in my eyes how I was feeling and every time you smiled at me it stung a little bit. Not the kind of painful, overbearing sting you feel when an insect bites you or you have a rash, but the kind like a papercut--distracting, but small enough that nobody else really cares or notices. You had this way with me that made me feel like it was just you and me, and that was it. You looked at me above the crowd of people with your icy eyes and you saw me. And maybe you did this with everyone, I don't know, but you saw me, and you saw what I saw, and you understood like I did. You and me, we had the same filter.

I wonder why I want to talk to you now. After all this time, after all these years, it's still you. You're still the only one who ever knew what to say, the only one who knew when to tell me I was perfect and when to send me cat videos. You were never demeaning or inconsiderate, you never thought I was less. You knew, and I never understood you. I couldn't be what you needed, and I couldn't be quite enough.

I have so many questions for you, and I want to ask them, but I don't know how. How can I ask you what you did when you felt so alone, because it was just you and your head, even when you were swimming in a sea of people? I have so many more--how did you know when it started? How did you feel it the first time? How often was it? Who did you tell?

What did you do when it was too much? When you couldn't be enough? When you knew what you wanted and how to get it, but somehow couldn't take that first step? When you were paralyzed into thinking that you were less and somehow you existed only below? When you were angry? When you were sad? When you wanted to punch a pillow in but didn't have the strength? What about the insomnia? What happened then?

How did  you deal with the pain? You know, the pain that cuts into your heart and sits there, makes a nest, a nest of glass that threatens to cut more whenever you move. How does it feel to take medication? How does it feel to self-medicate? What did you do when you were done, when you wanted it to be over? Did you ever go too far? What about when you had too many thoughts, too many questions, too many dreams, and not enough hope? What about then?

Somehow I know, if I asked, you would answer, and you would call and tell me it's ok, and you would know what to do. You would drive over and you would hold me in your arms, even though it's been years, and you would kiss the top of my head and fill me with warmth. You would know, and I would know that you knew, and we would be you and me together, two broken records that made a pretty cool collection.

I used to write about you all the time.




Monday, March 26, 2018

it's me

sawing, sawing,
eating away at me,
asking me,
begging me,
toying with my fingers
and my brain
sawing until the tape got thinner
until the break could
finally be on me,
I'm the curse,
it's me,
I tried,
I fell,
down,
down,
do
d
.

Monday, February 19, 2018

I just have to write this down.

I just have to write this down,
I have to,
before my head explodes
because of all the feelings,
feeling,
leaking into my veins on accident
and into my brain
and it gets a little stuck
and suffocates me a little.

I just have to say,
that I know how it is,
I know how you feel,
how we are,
I know,
you'll tell me a hundred times how
stupid I am for thinking otherwise
if I ever try to explain,
I know,
it's just that,
it's only,
I'm not mad,
I'm confused,
and I realized--
you treat me differently when you're with her.
and I can't understand why,
when with anyone else,
I still feel so loved and missed,
and when you're with her,
you push me away,
you have to pretend to be
someone else.
I don't know.


Sunday, January 28, 2018

I care

dew drop irises
and streaky curls of hair 
I brush them down 
And scratch your head 
To show how much I care.


Each time I find a pretty verse
Or feel something’s unfair 
I want to show you,
Talk it out,
to show you that I care.


I know your favorites,
All the foods,
The colors, 
Things we share, 
I’ll clean the cupboards and the floors
To show how much I care.


I worry for your safety
And ask for you in prayer, 
Your happiness is my concern 
And I’ll always be there
When you feel that all is lost
Or drowning in despair
I’ll be there to pull you out 


that’s how much I care.