My therapist once told me that overcoming an addiction is a daily battle: I will always crave a cigarette on my lunch breaks, and I will always instinctively reach for a razor blade when life is on overdrive. Every day is a war with my mind to not give in to itself. I wonder if it’s going to be like that with you, too. I wonder if every day I will fight not to pick up the phone just so I can hear your voice.
unless you’ve been there
when the world has knocked
me in the chest and released
the air from my lungs like a loose balloon;unless you’ve been there
to kiss away the memories i’ve
etched into my skin, unless
you know my scars by name;unless you’ve been there
to simply hold me when
crying becomes like breathing and
i cannot remember how to laugh;unless you’ve been there
to kiss me in the morning
after i’ve stolen the blankets
throughout the night;unless you’ve been there
to call me the day after
i couldn’t say a word, unless
you’ve stayed through dinner
with my family, unless
you’ve stuck around even though
sometimes i scare you shitless;unless you’ve kissed my forehead
after dining with me in hell,
do not tell me
you love me.
i assured myself his eyes
would always search for me
in the cracks between the pavement
and his ears would listen for me
when the wolves
howled at night.
but now i know
he’s filled those cracks
with softer skin and
while the wolves
howl, his ears are full
of her laughter,
and so
it doesn’t
even
matter.
i am nothing
to him anymore.
and so a piece of me dies.
i am a little less
of who i was before.
i’m in some sort
of fucked up purgatory.
dancing between
reaching for the phone and
reaching for my throat
because
it’s my fault you’re gone
it’s my fault i’m gone
but at least i’m not
on fire anymore.and i want to call you.
sometimes i go so far as to
hear the dial tone before i remember
i deleted your number
and never bothered to memorize it.
i never thought i’d need to.and sometimes i go so far as to
imagine what it would be like to have you
in my life again until
i remember how much it hurt
the first time around;
how heaven and hell were never meant to be
together because
that’s what being with you was and
it was a cycle so vicious
i couldn’t for the life of me tear myself away.but i did.
and in the process i lost
my skin from where
we were attached
at the hips.
the scar reminds me why i cannot go back.
because my hands might as well be ghosts,
the way they touch you.
because my lips are useless
if they never meet your skin.
because i will always love you,
and you
will always love someone else.
i walked to the river today–
the one we hiked to
on
our first date.
I sat in the flowers,
the same ones I sat in when
you looked at me like
I was something
you’d never seen before
and asked me what music I liked.
I walked to the river today–the one
you and I got lost
trying to find.
I hiked the trail to
the rock where
you told me I was beautiful
for the first time.
Do you still hear my laugh
in the ripples of the river?
Do you still listen for me
when the trees sing like the rain?
Because despite all the time that’s passed,
I still see your eyes in the summer grass
between my fingers,
and these
waters will always
whisper your name.
I’m sinking into the air again.
I reach out to grab your hand
but all I get is smoke.
You aren’t anywhere to be found.
I’m getting used to turning around
and not seeing you there.
You said you’d always be there for me.
I found it easy to believe–
it’s what I needed to hear.
You made that promise long ago.
It’s my fault, I should have known
you don’t keep them so well.
And I know life swept you off your feet,
took you places you’d never dreamed.
I just thought you’d take me, too.
So I’ve learned at the end of the day
everybody goes their own way.
I guess I should let go.
So much can change
in so little time.
All you had– gone–
in the blink of an eye.
Don’t dwell on the past,
it’s already gone by.
Turn your face to the future
and see how it shines.
Please trust when I say
it’ll all turn out fine,
not long after darkness
the world will be bright.
Probably:
the guarantee
of a lukewarm promise that
may or may not be
broken.
Probably: like babbling
brooks and babies. Like
babbling on and on and on;
empty words
just to fill the space
you were so afraid
of.
Probably:
a thumbs up for empty air and
words that pop like bubbles.
A contract signed with
probably in the
fine print scares me.
As I curl into your back I whisper:
will you still love me in the morning?
Only the sticky air replies:
hopefully,
maybe,
probably.
thank god for hybrids, you’d said as you looked at me
and grinned the day
the gas prices climbed.
i can get 40 miles per gallon on this baby.
you could spend less money and
go further, and
you loved that.
you always were thrifty.
and now
i can’t help wishing that maybe
my heart was
a hybrid, too because
the more time that
goes by,
the less you hold
my hand;
the less you tell me you
love me
and i’m trying to
make us run with
less and less gas, but
i’m not sure how much
further we can
go.
When I left you, I was scared that I had left a part of me behind– the part that loved long hikes, exploring, deep talks, learning, and spontaneous day trips to small towns. I believed that you were part of what made me who I was, and if you weren’t in my life, I wouldn’t be adventurous or kind or spontaneous anymore. I didn’t see that all of that was already in me. I thought I needed you in order to love myself.
I could not see that everything I loved about you– all the things I loved doing with you– were already inside me. I didn’t need you. I don’t need you. Everything I was scared to lose about you, I’ve discovered in myself. It was there all along, it was just masked in our relationship. I don’t need you to be myself. I am me without you. I am the same without you.
Silenticel 