If your loved one died
You might loose your mind
For 7 years you try to live with that kind of loss
A 63 year old estate
Before you take your big breath for the 8th year
Your daughter dies
The only one that was left to take care of you
No one planned for this kinda grief
You have always been a strong pillar of sugar
In your granddaughters eyes
you are a strength they look to in the heavy wind
Now you blow over
Your heart is broken
You feel the betrayal of the universe
You are 89 going on 97 fast
You can't stop it
Things that made sense make no sense anymore
The love your girls bestow on you weekly
Mistaken for suffocation
So you lie
Take for granted
Just like we did once upon a time
I've been intrigued by the art of Miss Van for a while now.
Her juicy girls win me over. Her line work intoxicating.
Nothing is more sexier then a woman who does graffiti.
Nothing is more exciting when she crosses it over into the
galleries. Yeah Miss Van.
I could almost find you in the dark
Set up as a protection barrier
Amongst the stained paper pile
That's how much I feel you still
While making a mark
Morning awakens the drum
In a lifting attempt
I beckon you with demanding strides
I emboss a request
Drink lemons from an old lady's garden
Closing my eyes I can see 3 branches in your hand
One for yesterday
One for tomorrow
One for now
As my kiss on the side of your neck
Rides side saddle
Igniting dried lavender
Behind the knees
To warm these hands
If you had been a real writer of words, I would of taken your sorted letters by date and wrapped them up with a red ribbon. There would of been a place in my blue suitcase for you but there is not. In my mail box exists 2 years of conversation and evidence of you and I. Writing and talking to you was a delight I had exposed myself to. Now you have become a spotted poisoned leaf falling. I try hard to think of the good things. The wonderful you. In the end of that process I am left feeling forsaken and guilty. Which brings me to thinking only of surface superficial reasons to let you nest in my heart. I want nothing more then to just forget about you and your talents. For you too have hurt me . Your mistrust and misconstrued ideas of me leave me speechless and pining for acceptance, that I am so much more deserving of. Yet in your sadistic manner you get off in denying me. I have given you every chance in the world yet you can not make simple time for me. To listen. To stretch of yourself. To think beyond your circle... to see that I have a piece in this aching pie. You could never see it because no one ever taught you how to love this way and the one that could teach you, that taught, me has passed away.
During the discovery of how fucked up you really are, my heart strings pulled in different directions as I actually thought I could save you. To think I thought that. No one could save you only you can. Knowing who I am and what I was willing to be or do for you, I can never go to sleep thinking that I didn't try. Sometimes I wonder why you don't want anything to do with me, anymore. You mask it in these games that you said you never wanted to make or play so that way I don't scratch beneath the surface. I could but I don't, for I know better.
The development of you and I was suppose to be a beautiful thing. Traces left for others to be jealous of. Now all they do is feel sorry for me and push me to give up. Which you know was something that I could never do but fathom the possibility now. I just wanted to be close to you.
To start the healing process you meant a lot to me. I will state that as I bask in your silence. I see that giving up on you is ok for me now. Maybe not for your family but for me it is like washing the sugar down with water to flush you out. It just goes back to an old saying from one of my old chapters. "Don't hold on when no one is holding back". Amen.
Summer Solstice began this ritual of me and you
I sit quietly on the edge of
My long black hair separates in wet strands
The heat raises suffocating reason
Slowly I fold you into my hair
Twist and turn
Closing you in the narrow of this thought
Making a weapon for you later
My movement andante
With the meditation of you
It is mid-day afternoon
Climbing upon your tight sheet entrance
This door is closed for the day
Mine left open
My body making a dent in the pillows
I pull my hair
Remembering your loyalties
Wrap my tangle in your drunken whisper
I fall over into you
Pressing into myself
Where only I can reach and you warm
From a distance
You can find me any late afternoon
Shifting through papers
Sitting torn on the edge of a misplaced thought
Hands crossed trying
Talisman over talisman
Near last effort attempts
Hope shoved in the one more time pile
With sage possibility pending like checkmate
What does a girl like me do to make it through the tunnel?
Like the struggle part in the last chapter
With a different ending this time
Like all good girls glory
I’m the day time floor watcher
With no trust and restless hands
I could learn from it
Build a make believe everything's alright castle
Observe the self
How to walk in between the cracks in the pavement
I instruct myself
Breath and feign
Breath and feign
Breath and feign
All is well
With gold star sticker theory
Did you know you can make them yourself?
Like a press on tattoo kit
For marks to remember a time meant something
A time misused
The phone rings and I imagine you getting up from your chair in the next room and coming over to the phone. As you see my name light up in bright blue, you hesitate to pick up the phone. I know you want to but you choose to make me wait. Give me something to worry about. This makes me peel over in my fire.
This makes you feel something that you can't quite explain to yourself or anyone, but you like this powerful feeling. I admit that I like you feeling this too, that is why I keep offering myself up as a sacrifice. You never knew that you were a sadist did you?
Did you ever think for moment that perhaps you are doing everything that I ordered up with a red pencil. I want you to forget about me and then remember me, like you seem to do so well. I expect this, I demand it. I want you to ignore my letters, then pick and choose a moment for me. At least I know when you decide to put your finger on me that you have really thought long and hard about me. For this I bend over. For this I am here for you on my knees. Like you said you wanted me.
This feeling of being put on your hold leaves the excitement of your horrible beauty lingering for days. Weeks. Months. Please continue to make me feel this cold with your ice... then right when I am going to freeze over remind me again of why I love you with a warm whisper.
I have come to accept that I will never have you like a cup of everyday morning coffee. What I do have is shoved down deep into the depths of me. On occasions I would read your scribbled letters, imagine you as I lay wringing your paper for a fresh drop of ink. I make fists out of loving frustrations. Crushing your ink strokes and paper between the patella. A shifting replacement of the lasting feel of you for this is the closest I will ever get to having you.
So death please go away for a while... Thanks. See you later. Goodbye.