Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Who are we fooling?
There's ash in my hair. On my shirt. In my bed.
So gullible, so easily used. And so, so utterly disposable.
You spend a summer spinning a web. Later it's a song which hangs above your own grave.
You break a leg, you break your heart, you move past the point of no return. You fall apart in lonely nights. They bring in pockets of sunshine, throw in a rope and pull you out. Your spine becomes Freyja's cavity.
You give up your seat and stand in the aisle. People get on and off. You find another seat, give it up for a stranger again.
You walk bare-headed and bare-foot in crowded markets to fetch a price for Diana's tears.
What's bothering you is bothering me.
If I cannot have you, I'd never try to harm you? You'd go insane if I come closer. So let me build some barriers so we can spend a few more years together.
She looks at him, and his eyes prostrate.
It had been so long, you held the phone in silence, not remembering how to start a conversation.
A hut in the mountains. And there was a stream right next to the hut. And I slept to
Rakaposhi on one side. Nanga Parbat on the other. White snow in the day. Orange in the evenings. A ferocious red at night. And the sound of the rain on the roof at night. And on the grass. And the smell of it that seeped in from below the doors and through the gaps in the windows. I wish I could take you there.
You are acting like a man.
One of us has to.
Don't talk abour distance.
Don't talk about coming closer.
Don't talk about reaching anywhere.
However far away
However long I stay
Whatever words I say..
Ha-ha. Forget it.
She was a user, and you always knew it. She used people ad discarded them and retreated back into her indulgent habits. You just hoped and hoped she would't do it to you just because you were best friends.