I need to speak to
your memory.
Carpels
dial you,
(your smile,
your gesture,
your words,
your heartbeat,
our forgotten home)
An unfamiliar phone,
miss-dialing,
hanging up.
Dialing Again.
Does this speak
to you
at all?
I stood before
the transformed
strip-mall,
next to the highway
we traveled
together.
In my mind,
it was framed against
the sunsets
we often
spoke over
and through.
Ancient spectacles
we hold,
forgotten dreams
unfold.
Where were you in
December.
Who was I,
that you thought
you loved me.
We lose no games
in our impressionable
battered minds.
Cycles of avoidance,
we deny
and often lose.
Who were you,
when you thought
you could bear this.
This burden
was never meant
for you.
You haven't seen
this head of mine
for way too
god-damn long.
You haven't heard
this voice of mine,
singing high and low,
like sunrise in the mountains.
How the daylight came
like euphoria
on a clouded
mystery mind.
How we trod too long
in our history.
But how November
came and went,
and I was
renewed.
Don't re-cut
the wounds.
You haven't seen my face
in way too god-damn long.
I'm not your pool of problems,
and you were never mine.
I'm standing here
and screaming.
I'm not that girl,
not anymore.
I will not deny,
but I refuse it anymore.
The sun set hours ago.
I haven't seen my face
in way too god-damn long.
We wait in line for hours,
just to get a glimpse.
We chase down
what we thought
was on
our minds.
It turns out
we were just living
all along.
At one point,
the paths crossed
and diverged.
You will never know the
words that saved me,
they came from your
gaping mouth as you
tried to enrage me.
You will never know
what I remember most,
the view from the
edge of the highway
as I look down
upon our lives.
You will never know
how you never really
saved me.
How you told the truth
we thought we needed to hear.
How I knew you knew that we
both were writing
to save
one piece
of ourselves.
How it was never
out of character
for me to cry
in silence.
But that you
gave words
to my world.
That you were the voice
and the face.
You were the gift
and the crime.
You will never know
[how you
saved me]
when the words
were under lock
and key.
You were the ear,
the encouragement.
The only one who knew.
The battles rage(d) in my mind.
We are gaping, draping
ourselves across
old over-stuff chairs,
anticipating
the world.
We are facing
what we thought
we could
forget.
We have fed ourselves,
fed each other
with words
and fears
and lies.
And also bitter,
painful truths.
My greatest expression,
my greatest downfall.
We are wrapped in
miscommunications.
You were the one
that told me.
I can't do this on my own.
I ask for nothing,
but hope to give everything
in return.
You have not hurt me,
only spurred a conversation.
A conversation with myself,
and I must listen
and learn.
It was the smallest
lacerations
that drug me by
my toes.
That chased and
tripped me.
What could I
create
and never
regret.
I need to speak to
your memory.
Carpels
dial you,
(your smile,
your gesture,
your words,
your heartbeat,
our forgotten home)
An unfamiliar phone,
miss-dialing,
hanging up.
Dialing Again.
Does this speak
to you
at all?
Create and Never Regret.
It was Never about you.
