Half poem, half prose.
Jassie, you haven’t love the love that I lust. And you’re bad at advice, especially about relationship. None of that is your fault, you excel in so many other areas of friendship. But there’s this creative force from a longing that I can’t share with anybody. Not you, not Alannah, not Ben. It could’ve been mum but you know why I couldn’t. And if I can’t share the words, how do I share the feelings?
Despite this inability to really talk about it with anybody, I have to put it out. No matter how scary, it’s an obligation for myself. Things like this aren’t necessary for you, but I supposed it is somewhat resemblance of an update. So here it is.
---
This sad muse that angers me
My shirt smells like you
Not in the sweet linger of a boyfriend’s sweater
way
Not in the mellow mush of two bodies after a
good hug day
But in the sticky way that my father’s cigarettes
never left my face
It crawled rotten on my tongue and filled the
canal in my mouth
I can’t rid of it.
Do you understand Star Gazer boy?
The image of you and the memory of him is like a
rebel addiction that consume me
More than the soft drugs that eat you
And while you drink your past sorrow and suffer
from nothing but a psychological spell
I sink into this disgust greedily
Trying to understand this paradox of why you
don’t want me
Forgetting to question why I don’t want you.
But never mind that I’ve got to go
So I slap on two dabs of perfume
Like that time I finished smoking Dad’s stolen
Marlboro
By the bathroom window when
I thought all the problems will go away if I get
away from it
Only I was sitting in this bar stool missing you
People were laughing, they were loving me
But I’m writhing, shrivelling, seizing,
I am not me with you, but I am not me without
you
It’s just an arm that I miss, I told myself
It’s just another body to hold in the dark of night
But without its presence, I’m hideously
contorted, my heart’s chilled, my body’s
contradicted, my brain’s ached.
I am Frankenstein and the creature of my
loneliness
Today, I awoken from another morning and I
Continue to sink into the greed disgustingly
Don’t get me wrong, I am abhorred by my
longing, the monstrosity of your presence, the
lack of it feeling like a torn arm from a
discarded body
But I am engaged in the warfare of the heart
And the only way to quit
You
Need to grieve for what you had
Maybe I need to pick up cigarettes again
Maybe I need to be a tree
Maybe I need to learn whatever Stevie said, on
how to be free and revel in the mystery
9 сен 2024
