Thursday, August 20, 2009

"You shouldn't think what
you're feeling
They don't tell you what
you know you should want"




Once in a blue moon (or on certain occasions, a six pack of the former)
something happens, whether you're ready or not.
Stumbling through familiarity, tasting of cigarettes,
I said yes or some misinterpreted form thereof.
My twin bed, once accustomed to a solitary occupant, held two;
squeaking with each shift and each swift, inelegant movement.

I'm not sure it was supposed to happen this way.
A damp bedroom, the only sound filling the air was
the incessant crying of my disgruntled cat.
Before I could bite my tongue, it happened.
And what I had held on to for so long flew out of my open window,
which provided very little relief to the unbearable heat.

It followed a day of on and off conversations about painful,
yet good intentions;unrealistic decisions. I was forced to
revisit romantic defeatism.Flashbacks and flash forwards
threatened to erase the moments where I remember being happy.
Part of me wanted to walk away and forget the whole thing.
But instead, I apologized for something that was
most likely no fault of mine and came to terms with the fact
that perhaps they've been right all along.
After hearing those words fall so carelessly
and so rehearsed from his mouth my heart raced at a panicked pace.
It seems as though I'm always the one forced to patch up holes
and mend the patches.
My heart returned to
normal; we returned to us.

The remaining evidence of my charm is a temporary,
milky white stain on my unwashed sheets.
People are looking at me differently
and I fear some people will think me to be a different person all together.
I'm no different, but I'm certainly not the same.

I have to find the energy to wash this long overdue
transgression from my body.
It doesn't matter much.
There's no closing Pandora's box.
There's no going back.

I purchased two used, malfunctioning watches,
both without batteries.
I have no intention of making them tell time,
but I'll wear them anyway.
If anyone should ask for the time,
I will simply tell them that it's infinite
and that there's no going back.

My quiet little house will soon be washed away with sound.
A different set of keys will soon hang from the door;
footsteps other than mine ascending and descending.
I can no longer pretend it belongs to me; the quiet or the house.

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