your life is blistered…

your life is blistered
by the setting sun
and dreams we dreamt
as if we were living
for one life only

the jokes we told
today: the ironies of life,
the laughs we laughed
callused by bitter strangeness 

adieu
to you
is but a foreign language
to me it’s broken glow stick lighting up the sky

 i’ll say goodbye
but not in english

i’ll say goodbye
and it will be forever new.

————————————————–

last weekend i was away with friends. trekking. miles walked under the coldness of october sun with you, with Y and others. according to Y it is over a year since he began life anew with his blonde. i know it isn’t. the day he professes their anniversary is the day i spent crying in his arms. it was the day when i almost begged him for a platonic kiss. it was the day he said “how can it be platonic if we are in love?”

62. straight into the recovery postion

blackout before my eyes.
blood, scalpel, heart, darkness. and then my mother’s voice, soothing, recieving, full of love.

i fell softly, straight into the recovery postion, noiselessly, languidly, water flowing downhill, gurlging softly at the impact with the rocks. as if i’m used to this. as if. 

and there was drama, panic, shock, laughter even, lab oozing with emotion like a devil sick of sin.
noone would have ever guessed that i would faint: i was strong. a rock. a pillar. nobody’s princess. 

but there it was. pig’s heart. or lamb’s. whichever. i cut it open, hands almost firm, quite agile. who knew how i was trembling deep inside? i didn’t scream or flinch, i looked at it from inside out, i smiled and laughed and feigned disgust. i know how to put on an act. 

tension released, i fell like a birch leaf in the autumn gust.
standing there passive, watching older, firmer hands cut right through a heart, talking of it, the ventricles, the muscles, the–
that was too much.

no use for me as such.

and yet–
are you surprised i crumbled or rather that i didn’t crumble straightaway?
whichever one, that’s quite okay.

i came around.
before you know it, i’ll pick the scalpel up again.

33. i need you for almost no reason at all

i like the fact that what we have is secret from prying eyes, that there is no label to label what we are. more than friends and less than partners, i like that no one knows about us you said.

if you’d have said anything else, anything else at all, i think i could have told myself that i was stupid for wanting to keep you forever to myself, for wanting to give up my vast blue skies and volunarily walk into a cage made of molten gold, locking it and swallowing the key, breaking my own wings so i couldn’t fly away on impulse, singing one last song before i beseeched you an eternity of silence. 
yes, if you said anything else at all, i might have laughed at my own stupidity, at the irony of me, me wanting to settle for anyone at all, but now i know i need you.

i need you because you don’t need me.

life works in funny ways, mon amour.
and there’s no other reason for me needing you than that.

i need you for almost no reason at all.