Goodbyes or until next times (two)

I’ve reread the works you sent me over the years,

Sporadic as they were.

I must admit I misinterpreted them at the time; misunderstood you (and still do, most likely).

They were cryptic

And I was never as good at puzzles as you were.

I was never as good as you at a lot of things.

I am writing again – a long short story in the works which I have kept to myself. There is a scene in which a woman waits alone for something to happen. I will not say what because it is irrelevant.

I’ve never known that feeling until now: scared and waiting, sitting on the stairs until I am called upon. Holding my breath and listening for trouble with every irregular creak or strange noise.

I used to fill that gap with you who would calm me down, and it made me think of all the times you needed me in your own moments

But I did not answer or I was too scared I would not be of comfort.

And for that I am sorry.

I was never good in those situations. Never found the words to assuage; was too irritated to truly listen.

Dependence was never my strong suit.

I thought of calling you when the inevitable happened. Talk about trying to

Break

The habit of a lifetime.

When I wrote this last night a couple of nights ago, I stopped and closed my phone and my eyes and decided to sleep on it before sharing. But this post and the previous must have unlocked some truths in my mind.

I remember telling you a while back – I could not for the life of me recall an old colleague’s name. It went on for over a year and I would think of it at least once a week. There were even periods of time when I would try to recall it each day. But all I could hear was another colleague’s name and I knew it was not that, though they both seemed attached to one another in my mind. But as soon as I closed my eyes last night, my mind turned to that illusive name and it felt so close – on the tip of my tongue. And then it tumbled out and it didn’t sound right but it was and I had blissfully remembered that name after a year or more of wondering.

And it was similar to that other colleague’s name; both ended in “bi” –

Korean for “rain”, as though the memory had simply been washed away like a delicate flower and had needed time to regrow again.

It is strange not sharing this with you, banal as it is. It was always the little things though, remember?

Goodbyes or until next times (one)

There was an abruptness to its end

One which I did not foresee

But which now feels inevitable.

I remember thinking with the vulgarity and destruction of youth that I would not be happy until one of us were gone. So I left for a time, only to come back again. I had not changed. Destruction motivated me. Love and loneliness most of all, but destruction a close third.

I have been thinking it’s just as well we left

for I still have that destructive streak in me I can’t abolish.

One or the other. Not both.

We were no yin and yang. We were too similar in a way, and too far apart in the same breath. But I fear history will repeat itself. That the honey reserves you put in will be depleted and you will look up one day to see the pots empty and honey in your hair and in the creases of your skin. Destroyed by that which you have built, like a house falling in on its architect.

It is an odd feeling

Going through life

Without you,

But you helped me understand the monster inside of me

Though I am no closer to destroying it

Than I was before.

Prompt: Write a poem or something about your relationship with life as whole as if it were a person.

I guess we haven’t known each other all that long, but I’m finally beginning to warm to you. Sure, I loved you when we first met – everything seemed exciting; our love seemed boundless. But then there was that period where everything darkened. You changed, and in doing so, took away some people I really cared for. You made me confused about what I wanted; made me wary of the future and unsure if I could trust you as though it were all incredible fun (which it wasn’t). And it was tough, but I guess I got through it.

I used to think those years we had as teenagers were fake: that I wasn’t really upset with you; that it was all just a phase. But now I’m not so sure. You hurt me irreparably then. In fact, you hurt me up until a little while ago. I didn’t know if I even knew you during that time. I thought you must have been cheating on me, because you surely weren’t mine.

And I didn’t want you anyway.

I wanted you to leave and never come back. I wanted you to disappear. I was uncomfortable with you; didn’t know what our future would hold.

But now – oh this is so cliché, don’t you think? Now I think I love you. Sure, you have your faults – your creases I haven’t yet ironed out. But I wake up to you every day and I’m thankful that you’re mine. I’m thankful I made the decisions I did. And in a way, I still want to disappear. I want to vanish to an unknown place so I can experience that excitement I felt when we first met… but there’s one thing that’s changed:

I want to disappear with you.