if he ever tried to retrace his steps, Y would still be here. there’s only so many lives a man can lead. whilst i lived out my three, not quite a cat but near enough the slinky nine, he could barely grasp onto one.
so here we are again. and he won’t admit that he was wrong to have jilted me at my elusive altar and though i’m not bitter, i still think it should have been me to have waved the first goodbye. i was never the taker for seconds.
now we speak for barely more than seconds.
and we had a conversation today. somehow i manipulated minutes out of him when he claimed to have none. and he wants me to call on a weekend. and he listened to my poetry of loving women and war poets. it’s been a while. but i’ll let him live his life. that one life he holds onto like a raft in a burly sea.
those sort of lives were never meant for me: i like mine long and luscious, like sweltering summer days.
and when i read him my lines, he stopped talking altogether, pondering, wondering, what it was that i meant, knowing it concerned him but not knowing how.
and to think i used to call him mine.
Posted in chapters of my life
Tagged admit, again, altar, altogether, are, barely, be, bitter, burly, call, can, cat, claim, concern, concerned, conversation, could, days, elusive, first, goodbye, grasp, have, he, here, him, holds, how, jilt, know, knowing, lead, life, like, lines, listen, live, lived, lives, long, loving, luscious, man, manipulated, many, me, meant, mine, minutes, more, near, never, nine, none, not, now, one, only, onto, out, poetry, poets, pondering, prose, quite, raft, read, retrace, sea, seconds, should, slinky, so, somehow, sort, speak, steps, still, stop, summer, sweltering, taker, talk, than, think, those, though, three, today, try, used, wants, war, wave, we, weekend, when, while, women, wondering, wrong, y
what does it feel like to claim and not be claimed?
i used to know.
i remember knowing, living for the memories. and recollections come and go, but it’s been close to never since that was me, claiming the world without giving anything back. and the gold thread of freedom trailed behind me, uscathed, untouched.
now, that thread, ulcerous tail, no longer golden, only appears when there’s a total eclipse of the heart.
it’s my firestarter, the shot signalling a race, a way of loving myself more by loving you less.
and it’s nothing more than a joke – a special effect amidst an action movie; an actress screaming as ketchup flows from her imaginary wounds.
for you have become my all, mi vida, mi corazon.
you have claimed me, like france claims you again.
tonight, tomorrow, for days on end, you leave me here alone. no X, no Y, no admirers, no other loves. i cut those golden threads leaving only one.
my tarnished freedom. my back-up plan.
and i leave myslef vulnerable to you. to claim.
and maybe all i ever wanted was to be claimed, my rebellions just a show so that when the curtain call was done and i was in my dressing room, all alone, taking the make-up off my face, someone, anyone, would walk in and force me to my knees, making me love them without loving me back.
and then, i would know what it was like to love a spy in the house of love.
then, whatever i thought of them would be what the world thought of me and i would feel whatever the world felt after i claimed it.
and none of it would matter, because the world would still be mine.
Posted in chapters of my life
Tagged action, actress, admirer, again, all, alone, amidst, anyone, anything, appear, back, be, become, behind, call, claim, claimed, claims, close, come, corazon, curtain, cut, days, does, done, dressing, eclipse, effect, end, face, feel, felt, firestarter, flow, force, france, freedom, give, go, gold, golden, heart, here, house, i, imaginary, in, joke, ketchup, knees, know, leave, leaving, less, live, living, longer, love, loves, loving, make, make-up, matter, maybe, me, memories, mine, more, movie, my, myself, never, none, not, nothing, of, off, on, one, only, other, plan, race, rebellions, recollection, remember, room, scream, shot, show, signal, since, someone, special, spy, still, tail, take, tarnished, than, that, them, think, thought, thread, threads, to, tomorrow, tonight, total, trailed, ulcerous, unscathed, untouched, used, vida, vulnerable, walk, want, was, way, what, whatever, when, without, world, would, wounds, x, y, you
suppose we hit a golden spiral
taking us back to 33a.d.
then, the bud of us was no more than a swelling tear
cascading down a woman’s cheek,
metamorphosing red
upon converging with the blistering sand
somewhere north of mount zion
dare i purport that was the birth of us?
before the saviour even breathed his last
and saved us all. or so they say.
the fortunate. believers.
and i’d like to believe in something.
anything at all.
still, mind not that mary wept for us, in our creation,
just keep your wandering eyes on that carnation,
scarlet turning to hot pink in the lewd glare of the sun
under your hands, the buttons of my shirt fumble undone.
————————————————————-
Christians believe that the first carnation bloomed on earth when Mary wept for Jesus as he carried his cross.
Posted in excerpts
Tagged 33, AD, all, anything, back, believe, believers, birth, breathe, bud, buttons, carnation, cascade, cheek, christ, christianity, claim, converge, creation, cross, dare, desert, eyes, fortunate, fumble, glare, gold, golden, hands, hit, hot, keep, last, lewd, like, mary, metamophosis, mind, more, north, not, pink, poem, poems, poetry, purport, red, sand, saved, saviour, say, scarlet, shirt, something, somewhere, spiral, sun, suppose, swelling, take, tear, they, turn, undone, us, wandering, we, wept, woman
glittering soot on her eyelashes 