the incurable loneliness when not alone our human ailment
“If I were a fish,” she said, “I think I’d still have feelings.”
“Why the fuck would you even want to be a fish?” He laughed, taking quick bites of his burger.
“Why not? Spending the day swimming around, it’d be like permanent scuba diving.” She pushed her plate aside and sat back, sipping from the iced tea in her hand. The day was bright, with a slight breeze keeping them cool as they sat out in the patio of the restaurant.
“You’d be a fucking fish. Why not a shark, or a whale? You’d just get eaten. Who cares if you have feelings.”
He rolled his eyes and picked up his phone, his focus on the screen between bites. She watched him quietly for a few moments until she finally shrugged.
“Yeah, I guess so. You’re not a seashell, anyway.”
With a sideways kiss and everything’s different. I can’t tell if that’s somehow left me still sideways. Maybe upside down. We stood in silence at the setting sun even though there seemed to be no reds or oranges despite, only pinks and blues. The sounds of nature fluttered like wet eyelashes, blinking. I may have swallowed a bug. But mostly he feels perfect against me, even if it’s just a casual brushing of legs, arms, hands, hearts.
I couldn’t sleep for what felt like forever, resting my head against him for a time, sometimes just my fingers slightly touching— just barely. I imagined all the things I could say but I left them to silence except his breath heavy in sleep. Kissed his cheek and held it there, my lips frozen against skin.
“Let’s have breakfast,” I wanted to say. It repeated in my head for what felt an eternity that morning of in and out that it never found it’s escape from my thoughts. Instead I drove away and the thoughts still stayed so muddled I couldn’t even sing along to a song.
I still feel that fluttering, blinking, trying to quell it to something resembling normalcy. I’m not what I once was, still the same. Maybe.
talk to me
answer the questions
that I’ve asked
call to me
take me into
your loving grasp
cry with me
help me take
the pain away
sing to me
tell me everything
will be okay
I wrote this 20 years ago when I was 20 years old.
There’s something about the moments in life when you’re sharing something important to you, maybe something difficult to speak about, that you might even try to nonchalantly mention in a half hearted or offhanded way. Like when you want to show someone your writing or your art or or music or just something very personal and important to the very core of you and you almost stop breathing for a moment, even though you tell yourself that what they think is unimportant and that what you do and think is for you, your soul, blah blah blah… but in that baited breath and sometimes they’ll look you right in the eye, and sometimes there will be a wonder there, or it will excite them and you’ll inspire each other, or sometimes it’s nothing more than an understanding and an almost kinship that they totally get. And it’s beautiful and magical and that moment wraps you up in that warmth of connection.
And then there are moments when instead you’re met with silence or an offhanded remark, maybe even eyes that are intent on something else completely, and it takes the breath out of you and you feel unseen, invisible, a half dead leaf blowing along the sidewalk, lost to the wind.
How is it that I allowed myself to be lost to the wind for over two years?
thoughts whispers touch. and scent, even still. a glass of wine to remind me a little, as we were. sitting quietly conversation shy glances. and smiles. it feels almost forever, but not. and the gorgeous sky reminds me, so blue and crisp. it’s as if we owned the stars even, as if we owned the trees and the wind and the rustling whirling close. dreams and truths. as if they existed for us alone, tempting wishing for us to steal away.
to steal away, yes. for a little while.
petals wither away,
sweet fragrance drifts past,
blown away, the chilling breeze,
of pale, brittle pink.
touches my cheek at last,
a wave goodbye.