The unspoken words between us is so loud, I sometimes think silence has become a sound.
You tricked me, and somewhere in
the back of my mind, I knew you would,
I can curse you on these pages, scribble
your name and then rip it to shreds, but
I just wind up tasting the salty warmth
cascading down my cheeks, and
blame myself once more.
It had been so long since we had seen
each other, these miserable, lonely months
with the state lines a constant reminder
of the distance placed between our hearts.
But you were here, if only for a week, and
we vowed to share it together, and I have to
admit, it was so simple to fall back into your
embrace, it was almost as if you had never left me.
But the hardest part was pretending like we
had a future, like this was going to last, when
we both knew you would be boarding a plane
and ascending out of my life once again.
I tried to push those negative thoughts away,
and live in the moment, embrace the passion,
lust, I kissed you with my eyes closed, and
placed my hand on the back of your head,
twirling those soil colored locks in my fingers.
I gave in, just like you begged me to.
But you’ve done it again, you made me believe
that there was a place that I could call home
in your tired and rotting heart, I was so naive.
So here I sit in my bed, replaying your words
in my head, wondering what it is about me
that makes it so easy for you to walk away.
You were a trickster, a lovely little liar,
with those sweet words and soft lips,
and somehow you make me feel as if
I’m still the one to blame for all of my pain.
It all happened so quickly,
how we drifted apart and grew
so tired of each other, somehow
our relationship just became a routine,
and our love making was a chore.
We fell in love that summer,
one night after swimming,
I remember how perfect it seemed,
almost as if I had dreamt it up,
and convinced my heart to believe.
We laid there in our underwear,
drying off on the deck with our bare
backs resting on the splintered wood.
We took swigs from the bottle of whiskey
and you tried to teach me to
blow smoke rings, but I never got it.
We laughed until the sun came up
and dried our bones.
The humid months were filled with
kissing with our eyes closed tight,
panting and lusting under the sheets,
and mornings where we just laid there,
tracing the outline of each other’s
naked, painted bodies and whispering secrets.
We were in love, we were something else.
When did it all change,
how did we end up this way?
I struggle to remember the last time
we did more than simply sleep under
these cold sheets, and I’ve begged,
pleaded for you to touch my skin,
I’ve almost forgotten what you feel like.
I feel disgusting, there has to be a reason
why you make excuses and avoid my lips.
And slowly, we became silent lovers,
trapped in a relationship, like smoke
hanging in the stale air of the bar.
And here I am alone in bed,
blaming myself, wondering
what I did to make you leave.
I just wish we could go back to
those nights in the summer,
stop time, and live there forever.
I don’t know what I could
have done to make you stay,
sitting here on the lonely back
porch I balance the cancer between
my yellow stained fingers, and take
burning gulps of whiskey.
I admit that I think about the night
that you left me more than I should,
I replay it like a film on loop,
over and over in my clouded mind.
We weren’t ourselves that night,
no, I don’t even know how we
had become such strangers
over the years we had spent together.
We had grown so far apart, it
was a slow and painful process, and
I hate myself for not noticing it sooner,
but hey, you didn’t do anything either.
I want to blame you for the nights
that I cried myself to sleep, begging
my tear soaked pillow for answers,
I want to blame you for the distance
that stood between us, the silent
conversations, full of words that
were left unsaid.
But as much as I want to hate you,
and blame you for this sickening void
lodged deep within my chest,
I know it won’t change the love that
we abandoned, and the time we wasted.
So I spend my nights wondering
what I could have done differently
to make you stay, who I could have
pretended to be, just to keep you around.
But I can admit that deep down, I know
we were just caught in a slow motion
lover’s nightmare, and you couldn’t
wait to wake up and leave me in the dark.
There are so many wonderful
words, dreams, and thoughts
swimming through the turbulent
waters of my mind,
but sadly, the gripping fingers
of my depression are beginning
to take a tight hold on my life.
Sometimes I sleep for days,
tossing and turning, tangled
in the cold and lonely linens.
But most nights I stay awake
until the burning sun rises again,
bringing another empty day,
just one more strand of miserable
hours without you here.
I want to write,
I romanticize each day
where I can crawl out of bed,
escape these cotton monsters,
and feel the warmth of these
autumn days on my painted skin.
But to be honest, the furthest
I ever make it is the front porch, to
smoke the sadness from my lungs
with the cancer turning my fingers
a sickly shade of yellow.
Or maybe to the kitchen to pour
another glass of that Tennessee poison
to drown the empty void
from my tired and rotted heart.
I’ve become numb,
absent from my own body and soul.
I know you can see me,
but I’ve disappeared to the
darkest corner of my own tortured mind.
It’s too late,
you can’t save me now.
I come from the deep south
the Crimson Tide county,
I am the cottage at the end
of the lonely dirt road
nestled gently between the trees.
I am the autumn breeze that
tousles innocent, soil colored curls
and caries the comforting aroma of
apple pie to infect the attention of passerby’s.
I held hands with a mirror,
I was the wild one, eating candy for dinner
while she stuck to horse back riding lessons.
I am the growing distance that
tore us apart, and now
I am the silence which
keeps us states away.
I am the lightening bug
trapped in the mason jar,
dancing to the soft melody
created by my Grandfather’s calloused
fingers as they dance on ivory keys.
I come from goodnight wishes
transmitted over telephone wires,
I am the echo in the barren halls
but over the years, I found my voice.
I grew up sad, whispering secrets
to my tear soaked pillow when
the milky moon showed her smiling face.
I wished on every star,
I waited for you.
Now, here I am,
look at me now.
I’m stronger, beautiful,
I’ve learned to laugh again,
and love with every ounce of
my tired heart, and it’s all because
of where I come from.
I placed my hand on his
thick callused skin
I could feel the warmth of his
rough flesh radiating love.
We laid there nestled between
the wild blades of grass,
hidden in the hollow
of this velvet morning.
Cold, lonely trees
huddled together in the distance,
a skeletal memories of spring,
for some reason, they looked
so distraught there, that I felt a sense
of pity for those barren branches,
The frost lined breeze made them
shiver crinkled leaves, trembling
like pages to the brown
patches of earth.
I stood up and brushed the
rogue bits of soil from my dress,
I never turned around to say goodbye,
but you never stopped me either.
I can tell this have changed,
but it doesn’t mean they are better.
I’m searching for midnight
waiting for solace, and it’s
in this silence
I roam alone.
The weather doesn’t match
the emotions stirring inside
of my chest, so I lay here
confined to this lonely bed,
these frigid sheets and I’m
left with only one pillow to
rest my weary mind.
The blinds are still
cracked and broken, the
same one’s you swore
you’d fix, but that was just
another empty promise
that escaped your filthy lips.
The weather doesn’t match
the stifling, choking sense
in my throat, so I lay here,
wishing that the clouds
would pour tears, begging
for a hurricane, a storm,
even a monsoon.
I want to wallow alone with
the dreary days, where the
sun doesn’t dare show her
bright, mocking face.
These beautiful days
will be the death of me.
We were lovers once, or so
that’s what they called us.
Both of us, broken and
jaded from years of falling
victim to empty promises.
We fed off of each others
misery, we kissed longer,
drank heavily through the
nights, fucked to the point
of having bruises, and we
would both roll over and
silently cry ourselves to
sleep. I had made a home
for myself deep in the
warmth of your aching
and diseased chest.
I knew that you thought about
her when you seemed to look
right through me, and every
once in a while, I’d roll over
and expect him to be in your
spot. We had no emotions
left to offer, but strangely,
neither of us would leave.
We knew, there is no feeling
worse, not even death, than
the sense of being alone.