I have disappeared.
Slowly fading away, like the early
morning mist, drifting away into the
unknown, with no path, no destination
in sight, I simply faded away into the darkness.
I was beautiful once, I swear it,
full of life, passion, and dreams,
I sure was a sight to see.
But something went cold inside of me,
late one evening when sleep seemed like
something I had only read about, but could
never fully grasp, I laid awake, staring at
the cracks in the ceiling, wondering why
my life seemed so empty.
At one time I was loved,
it was my warm and caring heart,
my smile that lit up the dark city streets,
and the wild dreams my mind would conjure,
I made it easy for men to love me.
But there is a difference between lust and love,
and I found myself sleeping alone each night
tangled in cold sheets, wondering why I had
made it so easy for men to leave me.
So I began to fade, drift, dissipate, become smoke
and disappear into the darkness of corners,
silently transforming into a transparent girl,
the illusive, absent lover, the one that years ago,
you longed to make your own.
I ran away from the city, from the light,
and to be honest, I ran from myself, my fears.
And now I will remain to you, only a memory,
the shadow, the foggy image of the painted dreamer
the girl you once loved.
Do you remember the night
that we laid on the warm wooden
porch with our bare backs on the
splintered planks and looked
up at the glowing sky?
The moon was playing her
childish games, sneaking and
peeking from behind the thick clouds,
the stars, those brilliantly bright stars,
burning and lighting the darkness
that felt so still and silent, an eerie
sense that made it seem as if
we were the only ones left in the world.
We laid still for hours,
blowing smoke rings and
taking warm sips from that
heavy handle of whiskey, we
realized how difficult it is to
drink while lying down and
giggled at our struggles and
mirrored addictions.
I felt the warmth of his mysterious
smile, those perfect ivory bones.
Our painted bodies lay there
naked and moist from the thick
summer fog, hanging almost as
low as the clouds that night, and
slowly, he inched his fingers towards
my hand, I could feel his anxious
touch lingering so close to mine.
Finally, his thick, colorful fingers
intertwined with mine, how strange
that they fit so perfectly, he tilted his
head towards mine and pointed
a finger to the silent night sky.
The stars, they glow for you,
and when those burning lovers
fizzle, dim, and disappear, just know
that I will always shine for you.
I’ve had a lot of time to sit
around, this so called self reflection.
My world has been turned upside
down, that’s when I learn the
most about myself.
I stay up late, drink heavier.
Jack and coke, hold the coke.
I keep a pen in my palm
and cancer between my fingers.
Everything I write seems to be
directly correlated to my misery.
I let myself be vulnerable,
not this again.
I never take my own advice,
now I feel like a more cynical,
misanthropic mess than before.
My Friday nights, transcended into
a night of wallowing in an
unhealthy, cathartic state
where I write letters that will never
be sent, and poems that I will
rip to shreds when the morning arrives.
I’m taking a social life sabbatical,
a break from drinking and lusting.
Later in the evening, my floor
is filled with empty whiskey glasses, and
a notebook where I scribble your name.
I feel like hiding, disappearing,
shedding my skin, wasting away
hoping I’ll emerge as someone else,
someone beautiful.
