misilover's blog

I tried to catch pieces of the moon falling through my bedroom window , but the tiny chunks of fragmented light were dying too quickly for me to save.
Everything seemed so permanant.
The stars hung against the black backround of night like the tiny glow-in-the dark stickers we put up in your bedroom that afternoon when we were 7 years old.
I wanted so badly to hold all that dying light in my hands and to run my fingers over the crackling, firey layer.
I waited.

You came to pull down the heavens for me.
You reached up and caught the edge of the sheet of stars with your thumb, and dragged down all the swirling light into my arms.
But no one can fight morning, and by the time I realized how important you were to me, the sun had come up and night was gone.

Sometimes I lie awake at night thinking about you.
I wonder if you remember me: the curve of my thumb...my arms around you...the taste of coffee on my tongue...
I'd like to think you remember it all.

I
said it
at the end of that voicemail
I just left you.

What do I mean?

Stomping ankle deep in fresh, slick mud
After a summer thunderstorm.
Horizontal sheets of piercing water droplets
Bullying into my skin like little daggers.
The three of us,
Floating freely under a perfect purple moon
With nothing to hide and no questions.
None except
Why Adam and Eve were embarrassed
After original sin,
And covered their alabaster skin with dead animals.
Their poor aching hearts,
Burdened with the pain of loosing God,
Whereas I only hurt because I have not seen him
For three weeks.
The clouds hover dangerously close to the stars,
Those carefully cut up chunks of light
We stay up late to sleep under.

i. After all your
Reassuring, the only thing I want
is to know you better

ii. But you tell me we have no secrets.

iii. My eyes cry ocean tears,
ice freckles on my cheeks because
I know it’s not true.

iv. Oh, if only the things I hide from you
Were not to protect you.
I would speak the truth in love.

v. I’d tell you.

vi. Just about everything.

This is the beginning.

i. The house lights are dimmed,
And the audience whispers in hushed tones;
All eyes are an the empty, dark stage…
Waiting.

ii. A woman walks to her burgundy Pontiac in the parking lot,
Unlocks the door, and gets in.
Key in ignition, engine rumbles, motion begins.

iii. You walked up the cobblestone street
Wheeling your bike beside you and
Now I wished I hadn’t
Spent so much of my life without you.

This is the middle.

i. Sets have been changed, curtains closed and opened.
Funny how the main character has been accused of murder,
Because I can see the victim standing in the wing of the stage,
Resurrected after being dragged off.

ii. The wheels are rolling, and the windows are down.
Woman’s hand is tapping on the side of the car to the beat of
Phil Collins on the radio.
Looking at herself in the rear view mirror, she sees what she’s become.

iii. I’m lying next to you with my head on your chest and

She is;
A whole new dimension.
The taste of colors not yet seen,
The smell of the way orange looks on a Saturday night,
The way green feels on canvas.
Thundering through a sun-lit sky at 3am just because she wants to,
And twisting your heartstrings while you think you’re being cool.
She is;
Shorter than the average man, but smarter and less useless.
Stealing hearts in the middle of the night but gives them back by morning,
And does things just to say she did.
She is my driving force,
My motivation,
My best friend.
I wake up in the morning just to pass the
Days before I see her again.

1. She made sure to double check her heart every time.
2. I would never try, even though she wouldn't tell, they'd never know, and he wouldn't mind.
3. I kissed the pine tree in yor backyard because I thought it would make you see me better.
4. When she was laughing she was thinking of me.
5. The dragon under my reading light is a sign that this summer was (almost) perfect.
6. I'm wondering how long it will take for you to realize that I'm not as careful as I seem.
7. He told us stories of being young and in trouble; they were supposed to keep us away from doing wrong, but instead they encourage me.

i. Were the first words
He ever said to me.

ii. Describes the look in her eyes
As she bumbles through my drawers and
Takes back her sweaters, her new socks,
Her dangerous pride.

iii. Are the days following
Our discovery. Baking soda + vinegar = explosion.

iv. Is the shape of a cello, the shape of a woman, the shape of my heart.

V. Is the begging I employ to get
Into your head.

vi. Not what you say, but what you do.
The gleam in your eyes and my promise that next time
I will take my glasses off.

vii. When you joke that I am worth it
I almost believe it.

Like the moment after
You wake up.
The way no problems exist for
That one minute,
The waiting for everything to hit and every worry and concern
To smack you in the forehead like a brick wall.
Sometimes, it's all you can do to get out of bed and out the door
Without tears of self-pity making you blind.

Clarity.
The first time he looked at me
(That evening by the side of the road)
And I knew for the first time what I wanted and
How I was going to get it.
But months came and went, and now I'm reevaluating my
Battle plans.

Clarity.
The way the sun always sets without
Asking why,
The way the moon and the ocean
Have the tide all worked out,
And the way a baby's only purpose is to
Someday have a purpose.

Clarity.
I emphasize the word without really knowing
What it feels like rolled into my tongue.

The very first time.
When we held hands under the skylight
in the theater lobby and looked up at the harbor,
the painted panoramic of the city I love,
and you pointed up at the wall like you really could see us
standing in the glass encased balcony,
like we were really there in the drywall looking down at us.
But I couldn't see, so I got behind you and
stood on my tip toes to see over your head, and
to follow the sight-line of your fingers.
I lied.
I told you that I knew what building you were talking about,
but really, I had no idea what I was looking at.
I was so busy thinking about how close you let me get
that I didn't notice the nervousness in your eyes,
or the other people in the room.
I just saw myself seeing myself.
I'd like to think that I am different now.
That I can look up and see us rather than just me.

I just left.

I walked up the street
(Purposely taking the first right
After the bank)
On purpose
And out of sight.

We both know.

The longer I hang around
The worse it gets,
The more I take advantage of
Your lack of movement.

I do what I do for myself.

For the last time
I'm tying up the lines that bridge the gaps,
And making sure everything is set
Before I move back.

Silence.

Noiselessness so thick and cloying it stifles like fog over
Our vacant bed,
Settles on the wrinkled cotton sheets,
Finds room among the pillows we’ve deserted.
Occupies the room we’ve left in search of everything else,
Our other lives, other people.
Silence watches a sparrow flits by the closed window…
Unheard behind the thick glass,
Shut out by dust and the lifelessness of everything we’ve
Abandoned.
This cold room is as vacant as the old mill by the river,
With the empty floors and stale air,
Where we’d sneak away before the lessons of
Age caught up to us.
The same glances we shared then…but older.
The same words…but tired now.
The same us…but worn down.

Silence.

Settles over me like a cool cloud of relief, seeps
Into my muscles like a strong pain reliever.
I am numbed.

Toad.

Brown and bumpy. Blotchy.

I grab at him with one hand, but

I’m on the phone with you and can’t concentrate.

He scurries under my shed, into a dark corner.

You hang up the phone.

Gone.

Bare feet on pavement,

Sticky tar seeping onto my big toes,

Burning up soles.

Lukewarm watermelon clogging throats like a

Soap-sponge traffic jam,

Slippery black seeds torpedo through the

Stiff afternoon atmosphere.

A summer thunderstorm.

Like walking out into my morning shower,

Sans the soap, and sleep in my eyes.

Cheap flip flops crushed under my aching feet,

Too tight tank tops,

Worn in jeans.

Typical.

I am alone again…too much time…no distraction anymore.

Prickly dry fields of grass. Straw in my hair.

Music turned up too loud. Eyes closed .

My heart in a free fall.

Mental pictures of you, because it’s been too long and I need a reminder.

The broadest term I’ve ever seen used to tie people together.
Links my poetry to his pain, her tears, his lateness.
Shuns me from the unit because I expect myself to be stronger.
I see my own and pray to God that I won’t ever have to sustain one like ours.
I do not see confusion or hate I his eyes when he tells me of his, and I am jealous.
I will cling to yours, with the rabid desire to belong foaming in my mouth.
The insult you throw at me to say, “Look, you can’t escape.”
We are always tied together, a blessing masquerading as a curse.