Something about today reminds me of my days in the city.
I was twenty2…possibly twenty3, running from trouble but always
walking into it. Back then, being drunk off of stoli in a Russian bar sometime in the late mornings felt like the paradise that life had kept from me. I can still smell the cig smoke in the air, which
always gave me a nostalgic reminder of my childhood, when I would inhale the space around my mother to take in her Menthols;
It was always the only thing that made me feel at home…
It took me a while to figure out why these moments lingered with me
today, but I figured it out once I found myself yearning for a quiet space to run to…
I am the city that never sleeps.
My skin kind of reminds me of the streets…gritty and grimy both aesthetically and internally. There are traces of footsteps on my skin…under my skin…in places that I never even acknowledged. People sometimes find me
beautiful; some find me ugly. Never considering that their emotional loitering leaves me with blemishes. Never considering that I never sleep
because of the noise that they choose to unload in my space…Because I’m complicated;
And praying for a darker, quiet place to call home.
Why do I miss you most when my laugh is lonely?
Or when holding my breath in desperation for the end, means I can’t say goodbye?
Your love at its peak is my weakness, yet I only seek it when my arms are empty…no matter it 5 or 500 miles…
Maybe our love poetry lives in another city? Following the path of inspiration, and I am here subconsciously trying to bring it back with me?
Just hold on.
Because you don’t know when life will cripple you
Because there will be a moment when your voice will be taken away
Enjoy the sun my love
Gloomy days will loom
And enjoy the wine
Because at some time your ability will be taken away from you
Sometimes I feel invincible.
Sometimes, I feel like
And the sun never shines.
Alone in the world
But with 1000 hearts to cater to.
I feel like
I should run away or something
Jump on a plane
Or a train,
So far away that even I wouldn’t know me.
I refuse to let this shit break me.
Me voicing my needs
Was white noise.
My silence will be deafening.
…don’t work anymore?
I dont have the answer yet, so I am hoping that as I type away my feelings it will magically appear.
I was reading a poem by Brenda Shauhnessy, titled “Why I Stayed 1997-2001”, and it talked about the failing relationship between herself and her partner.
It makes me think about our situation. You stay and made it seem that it would always be that way, even though the moments we shared were too often spent expressing why you shouldn’t. Fights for time, respect, admiration. Loving so hard but scared because deep down inside you knew our relationship had an invisible expiration date next to it. I can’t help but wonder if our relationship is made of teflon, or so badly broken that we are numb to any new adversities. Our love is a powerful love, partly because neither one has had a chance to experience something better (?), or at least that is my perspective, but I can’t help to wonder if that is acceptable? Should we be okay with unexceptional? With the fact that every single move we make has to work for the other, even though it never really works for the other?
Home is never really home. No, I don’t believe either one of us is comfortable. We don’t take our shoes off, unpack our bags, decorate. I take responsibility for this. I was never ready for this situation, and I don’t think you were either.