Tuesday, March 6, 2012

The Apology



6.

It began, as these things tend to, with a “We regret to inform you”. To break the fall, there was a claim to “careful consideration” in a syrupy, fructose voice.

Processions entered logjam funerals, chanted deeply in sorrow as their own voices drowned within themselves. Classic Chilean heartbreak at a 9.6 on the Richter scale. Zoom out by a scale of 20, voices become quagmires, zoom out further till you find clarity in the fourth dimension. A drop of water, like a painted fingertip, up your spine.

I want to hide out in the folds of your skin, in the lines on your palms forming centuries of mummified madness. Pensive days that extinguish into orange nightmares through which you weep like a scared child. Fall in and out of sleep, coax your way into them, forget that you are Madam X. Forget that the slip of the strap down your shoulder releases floods upon farmers along the Nile. Forget that he alone has the power to hide your deformed fingers into a shower of gold. Undo one button at a time. Move slowly, gently, slowly.

Your inner climate spikes at 104, you eat your telephone, your eyes form spiral digits which he loves on days the crop is purer than the rest. Cradle you in my arms all night, hold you in like a final breath, blow on dusty flowers with broken stems and place them in air-tight jars, and wish for your scent in them.

I have loved you greatly, tragically, like only great men deserve to be loved in books, without a thought of consequence or conscience. The intensity of my suffering is so great because it matches the intensity of my love for you. Forget this, forget everything we’ve done right or wrong, just remember that my eyes are in prostration, except when they rise to meet yours.


7.
I'm thinking of you again. This is so bad.

8. 
"I would rather fight with you than make love to anyone else."
True story.

7 comments:

  1. The last line is so sweet and so passionate

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  2. "I have loved you greatly, tragically, like only great men deserve to be loved in books, without a thought of consequence or conscience."


    Reading this is like getting stabbed in the heart every so slowly.

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  3. So much emotion.. It pulses out and recedes and then hits you again... You can't get past the sense of fatalism that underlies the words...

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  4. "I have loved you greatly, tragically, like only great men deserve to be loved in books, without a thought of consequence or conscience. The intensity of my suffering is so great because it matches the intensity of my love for you. Forget this, forget everything we’ve done right or wrong, just remember that my eyes are in prostration, except when they rise to meet yours."
    I am struck speechless by how cleanly your words slice through everything, and reach the very core of me.

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  5. the sense of longing and yearning is irresistibly beautiful.

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  6. 'just remember that my eyes are in prostration, except when they rise to meet yours.'

    That, touched me.

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