I thought tonight I will write you down not like a memory but like a burning desire, a desire that had taken the flesh off my bones. I could see the liquid skin churn, fester, leaving a smell behind that made me choke with tears of fury. Tonight, I thought I’d drink you down like something from the past that wasn’t worth the money I spent on my bus ticket. I spent so much on the alcohol, a little on the conversation but more on the food and yet there you were staring at me with blank eyes. I thought I could fill them with love. I had truly believed I could give you what the world had robbed you off; the sheer propensity of my protectiveness made me hate my guts. I would writhe in the pain of not being able to be the one for you. Here I am still writhing in the same pain. Such are the decisive risks we take. I was sure of the risk, I didn’t know how I’d take the failure though.
You’re sometimes the heartburn of food I fill my stomach with, it pleases me. I know it does because the taste of a good cheesecake is undeniable. You’re sometimes the ashes from the 28 cigarettes I burn my insides with. On most night, you’re the memory I push down with re-runs of a show I have seen already a 100 times for I can repeat the words ‘pick me, choose me, love me’ in my sleep. You’re so many things. And there you are like we had never met, like we never knew each other. There you are a perfect stranger staring at me from behind the curtain of an expensively built facade of respect, popularity and shameless greed. You sit there looking at me like a fellow traveller, maybe who was destined to leave me with no cash and I am destined to perhaps laugh about it.
I began to write you down, here I stop to think of words for mostly you’re an uneasy space in my chest. I don’t know how to knock you down; whether to soothe you with an old fashioned or to eat you up with ice cream tonight. Binge watching would help. As I seek some comfort in words, I remembered you with a friend over a fresh brew of beer – you were just a good date on the calendar and it happens to coincide with my existence, you were a fancy lamp on my naked floor of which shadows are hard to part with, you were the cold winter night or a comfort of a warm quilt, you were the friend on the phone at 2 a.m. disinterested in my woes & worries, you were the man of very shaky words and I a woman of only words. We were never meant to meet, never meant to be, never meant to see eye-to-eye. So it has to be.
I flip a coin to the next one, here I see again I’m a blank slate but still the black behind which is a whole spectrum of colors dissolved, dissipated and covered up. I think you seem to be an ecstasy, you are another passage of grief and I wished you were a door to a whole new world. You are one man but many, it was to be a different story yet a version of a sigh from years ago that I gulped down with a few L.I.I.Ts & old rock songs.
Would you try and not take me up on my offer, it would be good to know that denials happened sooner. For to be here after so much mental exercise for a lazy soul is a painful climb up the hill alone.