So, tell me, What are you doing New Year's Eve?
You were drinking hotel coffee and smoking your cigarette like it was a lifeline.
I remember the little red stir stick and the Styrofoam cup. I began to say”…” But then I let it go. I looked out to horizon – searching I guess for keys The ocean was endless I was empty handed and Your doors were always locked. It was old by then and you were older. And it was cold that day but, of course, by then, I was much colder. You took another drag, another sip, “It’s always dreadful this time of year” And I just nodded. Now, away from the water’s edge, I can say what I wish I had then said, It had been dreadful since the day we met. A month later and infinately wiser I finally find a place to sit, reflecting on the strawberry coloured haze.
This very haze that has clouded my every rainbow and has stolen what little was left of my mind. Am blurred, am frayed. The dedication to saving lives leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, like asprin, like novacaine, like ether. Can rescue others from the oceanic abyss yet none can hold a torch to light the way. And these underwater undertakings threaten my very breath, blowing the leaves of my trees, tearing my petals and feeding off of the things that used to free. The stiffling is encompassing. The restraints consume me; the too tight jacket binds me in, the manacles bleed my wrists, and the fuckin crown has broken skin. The fathers son comes to me late at night, feeding me ice chips and stolen stories. Lulls me to another induced sleep, to the place where it is all forgotten, where the restraints are merely guidance, where the lights cast shadows not spells. And in this dreamland, I find solace from the harshness. The bitter pills of winter. Maybe it’s what you didn’t say
Maybe it’s what I didn’t want to hear or maybe, Maybe our lines just got terribly crossed. I stayed on hold far too long. |
Sometimes
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