I lost myself somewhere between the bar and the dance floor.
I felt whole held gently in your arms,
with your eyelashes grazing my cheek
I let out that deep breath I'm usually holding,
The song would have to end,
We'd have to bow,
close the curtains on whatever characters we thought we were playing.
Your eyes opened,
I thought they looked brighter
I made my way back to the bar
begging our eyes to re-focus,
our mouths to dry up.
I fished for my keys vowing I'd fall asleep to only empty dreams.
And then you reached for my hand.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Sunday, January 1, 2012
To Whom It May Concern:
The girl is disappearing and you have to let her go.
You should have let her quietly slip into the shadowy corners of your memory years ago when you started on this path it seems you will follow for as long as you both shall live. Perhaps it is not sadness you feel, or guilt, or loss. Perhaps you can't wrap the words around the tip if your tongue. Perhaps it's just that old habits die hard, but you don't want to watch her drowning anymore. No one does. Not even her, and she can't breathe properly while you hold on with the firmest fleeting grasp.
The calendar has replenished itself, as it does, with blank pages, filled with days and days of endless trial and error, and trial. And you will succeed, and she will exist beyond your comprehension as she has always been meant to do. And while you may try to search through the pages to find a note that will predict the next sideways glance or crooked smile you cannot find it now, though you must know it will come. And while the pit of your stomach burns with a longing you don't understand, for a glimpse of a memory that was unfairly dragged into the present, you will have created a present more overwhelmingly beautiful than you could have done trying to hang on to this girl.
So let her disappear. Let her breathe. And lastly, don't criticize how she treads water. Because if you truly let her go you must trust that she will make it to shore on her own, and that if you ever become concerned that she didn't, all you have to do is ask.
You should have let her quietly slip into the shadowy corners of your memory years ago when you started on this path it seems you will follow for as long as you both shall live. Perhaps it is not sadness you feel, or guilt, or loss. Perhaps you can't wrap the words around the tip if your tongue. Perhaps it's just that old habits die hard, but you don't want to watch her drowning anymore. No one does. Not even her, and she can't breathe properly while you hold on with the firmest fleeting grasp.
The calendar has replenished itself, as it does, with blank pages, filled with days and days of endless trial and error, and trial. And you will succeed, and she will exist beyond your comprehension as she has always been meant to do. And while you may try to search through the pages to find a note that will predict the next sideways glance or crooked smile you cannot find it now, though you must know it will come. And while the pit of your stomach burns with a longing you don't understand, for a glimpse of a memory that was unfairly dragged into the present, you will have created a present more overwhelmingly beautiful than you could have done trying to hang on to this girl.
So let her disappear. Let her breathe. And lastly, don't criticize how she treads water. Because if you truly let her go you must trust that she will make it to shore on her own, and that if you ever become concerned that she didn't, all you have to do is ask.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)