Tonight you sent me all your secrets.
The one’s I have been digging for.
They sit like dirt under my nails,
but I am not eager to wash my hands.
I let them fester.
When I look at you, I see so many things
that the last few pages of my journal
have been eaten up with every
adjective about the way you
run your hands down my broken body.
I know that you like your coffee black, and that
my ravenous energy scares you.
Or maybe that it fills you.
And maybe you like that.
I know that I am always on the tip of your tongue,
but in the vessel of your thoughts
and that you might think I am crazy.
Sometimes I am surprised
that after all the kerosene I’ve drank
in the name of love, that I am still alive.
But you are the like the white light, that
they talk about.
The one that reminds you that
the world is filled with tiny, beautiful, people.
Tiny beautiful moments.
Caramel eyes and unanswered questions.
Red wine in bed and mid day naps.
And all of those tiny, beautiful moments, have let the broken record
that is my heart off the hook.
And it is nice to know that my heart, whatever hook it is on, only belongs to me.
So now I know, that when they talk about the white light, what they really talk about is you.
yesterday, a friendship of mine died. I would like to think, of natural (rib) causes.
farewell, never fair-weather.
On Tuesday I bought a ticket to South America for seven months. I’ve been planning this trip, talking about it, wanting it, begging for it, fighting for it, for almost a year. And now, I’m holding the next two months before I leave in my hands and suddenly I don’t want it as bad. Well…no…that’s a lie. I do, I want it with everything in my bones but what I don’t want is to leave everything I love behind. I don’t want to come back forgotten, I don’t want to see the love of my life with another girl and I don’t want to have to start a new life when I just had to for 7 months. I made everything about this trip, about me. It was my turn to have my adventure and it is. But I never considered what I could leave behind and what I couldn’t get back. I walked around so triumphant- that I am setting myself up for this big extravagant-soul-searching-journey that I became so caught up in what it meant for myself and I failed to consider what it meant for my friendships; my love life. I’m hardly scared to leave, but I’m already scared to come home. The world doesn’t stop when you are full filling your own personal endevours and I think the magnitude of that reality just came and slapped me in the face.
This morning I received an email of apology from an estranged friend. Her words, came forth with sincerity-I do believe that. But through the months that we have gone, and lived as strangers has left me too cold to respond. I painted the image of her in my life with the highest respect and regard. In the early days of our growing friendship she introduced me to the music that I now define myself through. Her impact in my life, is significant to say the least-however in a time of turmoil she vanished. I have since filled the void her friendship once occupied, but her reflection has not left the revolving door that seems to be the consistent exit for the people in my life. And although she remains a hologram, echoing the distinct impression she once had, time has worn away my desperation to dig for her in my heart.