Eclipse
Trite seems the night light
I thought I was immune
till shadows started their
Capture of the moon
she lingers there
playing with her hair
we are just marionettes
strings shown in silhouettes
drawn together by some script
to this hallowed crypt
no laughter only sensation
every kiss a hesitation
a vivid integration
of our shared frustration
time, non existent
existence, violated
volition, singular
body tingling
lost in this moment
trying too hard to hold it
I'm surpassed
Seen through like glass
The orb takes its grasp
I'm rooted
Crimson Crescent
Grows in my presence
Gazing longingly
Yet we remain passive
The distance too massive
So we each sit and wait for the other
I thought I was immune
till shadows started their
Capture of the moon
she lingers there
playing with her hair
we are just marionettes
strings shown in silhouettes
drawn together by some script
to this hallowed crypt
no laughter only sensation
every kiss a hesitation
a vivid integration
of our shared frustration
time, non existent
existence, violated
volition, singular
body tingling
lost in this moment
trying too hard to hold it
I'm surpassed
Seen through like glass
The orb takes its grasp
I'm rooted
Crimson Crescent
Grows in my presence
Gazing longingly
Yet we remain passive
The distance too massive
So we each sit and wait for the other
posted by matty at 5:00 PM
2 Comments:
I think this poem is amazing. But it took me years to understand it.
Your silence is also a reply. Perhaps aloofness? You have every right to be- I'm always barging in. Or you are being prudent. I trust you if that's the case. I can see now that you have far bigger reasons to stay present in your life than any request I can make to borrow your psyche. But don't let your silence be vengeful.
If you have had to sit through even a fraction of the discomfort that comes with self-awareness while parsing out what happened with the clarity that distance and maturity can offer and come to similar realizations then in truth I do not wish an oz of that discomfort on you. Still, I want the validation that you know what I am talking about. You're the only one who can corroborate.
Believe me, I've considered many times if I am just a crazy storyteller but the older I get the more certain I am that I am perfectly sane. What happened was traumatizing and I'll always wonder who you really are and what you were really thinking- probably until I'm dead.
I know I am always saying too much and not enough, that is my fatal flaw.
But here is what I think: I think we were mostly just the same and that is why what did happen did and what didn't happen didn't. I think our existences collided in a strange and beautiful but painful way. The kind of way that makes me wonder if reincarnation is real. But then, maybe I am just crazy. The trouble with a mountain of circumstantial evidence is that while it can be affirming cognitively, it is insufficient for sentencing.
I took the lamp (did you or anyone ever even notice?) because it is awesome but also because I was looking for you. That lamp is my favorite piece of furniture- it has followed me with every move. When I said "bitch" what I think I meant really was that I couldn't seem to update my worldview fast enough to account for what was happening and it was just too scary. You seemed all too willing to help me sabotage which made me think I was doing the right thing. Then I found myself in the throes of incapacitating bodily anxiety and there were no real choices. And as things became less and less ambiguous and all of my defenses mechanisms were eroding, things became exceedingly impossible to cope with. Maybe I was just too young.
Anyway, I am writing a novel. I don't want to be the writer who doesn't write. I will find a way to do myself justice. I don't see any other way.
If you have read the whole of this, then thank you.
Do you ever wonder if everything is stuck on an infinite recursion? I started to write something but ended up destroying it part way in. It wasn't the story I wanted to tell. Someday maybe I'll write something work keeping. But probably not soon. It's amazing how hard it can be to be honest with yourself.
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