Firsts

(wrote this one summer 05, found it recently and finally got around to editing it)

she looked at me with a confused face.
she just couldn’t understand why i felt so out of place.
something wasn’t right;
the stale, anticlimactic end to a long, crushing night.
she frowns and tries to forget what i just said;
gently pulls up the covers – this isn’t real: not this bed.
we’re just dreaming, see?
but what’s this headache staring back at me?
she’d like to forget it all, forget that i exist.
staring at opposite walls with the exact same wish.
we replay the events that lead us here together in our minds,
a silence overwhelms the room as the moonlight streams through cracks in the blinds.
i know it’s wrong, but, “i’m sorry,” i let her know,
she hates herself, whispers, “me too,” but she tries not to let it show.

Just a Little

I try to breathe in all the lights as they're crushing me. Each flicker and each flash another twitch in my memory. Another skip in my evening turned late night turned early morning. Stars and streetlights flirt in circles around me, all falling and all twirling. My memory mistakes me; my memory is blinded and scarred. So am I as I close my eyes and swim amongst the stars. So am I as my withered body falls limp and floats slowly down amongst the tide pool of flaring meteorites. I am one with the heavens; I am one with the night. I drift off with the moon till I’m empty.

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1.

Catch me, September. Catch the last
remaining drips of summer; now
she's an old woman, fading
in the distance - smiling,
smirking, sinking. The old
summer gal winks before
she leaves the building - she
leaves with a chill. She leaves
with a gentle pat on the back just
soft enough to let you
know she cares, but just
faint enough to leave you
desperately, aimlessly wandering.

Careful now, hold me.


2.

Shatter me, September. Shatter that feeling
of leaving or coming and going,
like a baseball through
the window. Flaring smiles quickly
waste away into youthful faces
of distress. Inching carefully
towards the doorbell. Anticipating
the worst, always always
the worst. Let fall your spirit
as you swallow pride and all
your other misconceptions. Just
fall. Float or fly or plummet. Let
the leaves sweep you in, let go.

Hold on, careful me.