I’m trying to figure out what to do, how to fix myself. After all I’m broken, I’m lost in the folds of an invisible city. I’m grasping for familiarity and finding a blank face, a hand pulled away or a turned back. I’m supposed to get on a plane in one week, fly to see you. Over mountains and cascading dripping rivers of snow. Over rain and plains lush and green or brown and lucid. Over cities, slums, orchards, people living there everyday live, people flying over people, or waiting. At each stop ill have to wait, alone, silent hearing teeth and tongue gliding across each other in a smooth motion. I’ll sit on many planes in order to see you.
But now I’m broken and I’ve broken us. I feel my toes twitch in the night, as I lay awake. I can only pretend to sleep. I drink coffee and stare at the open window realizing I’d like to jump out of it, but alas it is about four feet to the ground. Jumping out of a first floor window means everything would be fine. You say I’m never happy and folds of fabric tears drip down continuously trying to recycle themselves. You say when I figure things out I can contact you cause your waiting for me.
I feel abandon, left in the invisible city like you left me in the city that you said was ours. Beyond the city lays quiet lush green olive trees and to the city limits. I haven’t seen a soul yet. The shutters push air back and forth. The clothes are bleached and the markets are bare. I don’t talk. I don’t see. I sit in an abandon café holding an empty coffee cup I left to mouth every few seconds.
It’ll be exactly as it is to sit on the plane lifeless, a body in transit—to transition. Inside, spilling over and frightened. I haven’t eaten in weeks. What will happen? I’ve been left in a city that doesn’t exist, alone drinking coffee that never appears.
You are supposed to be here for me, but you walked away. There’s only so much fight before you just decided there’s no use and sleep. Then I’m told to figure stuff out and to get a hold of you. In the background I see you passing your office. Apparently I’m not a complete person. I’m not my mother who did everything on her own. I no longer understand how you feel or I’m no longer allowed the ability to catch your sarcasm, confront your body with mine, or please you. I’m continually miss stepping in this city you left me in. I am bruised, but I no longer cry. I no longer feel worth of food, sleep or friends. So I deprive myself nothing because I have no understanding of how to bring you back. At night I sleeping an empty bed that was left in the middle of the street. The middle of the bed has a crack, so I sleep only on the left side shivering alone.
This word alone is what we enter this world as, and what we leave this world as. We form relationships to touch happiness and love—an ability to understand someone other than ourselves. We accept and we deny. There are those in transit, as I am. They lack an acceptance or denial.. They wait in their invisible city sleeping on beds in empty houses or streets, like me.
I write on buildings and sidewalks, trying to make something for you that you will want. I feel like I can no longer express my fears, my silence stands growing louder. I want you to hold me and construct the city with me. Place people in it that allows life to form and buildings to grow. I want to build something together curled in the crack of the bed and form something.
But I don’t know how to hold you anymore. I don’t know how to build something alone. The sky lacks stars here. I don’t know why this is our city. I don’t know what that means, but I fear that I will never complete fit into your world. I can’t speak the language nor do I know the costumes. You don’t understand that scares me, because words and worlds don’t glue themselves to me. I am with out words, the one thing I might still have left. Again I pass a night laying, staring at the black sky.
I have always been in love with you,. I have always waited—but some how it feels worse that you’re waiting for me. You told me to figure it out. I don’t know what to do. I’m supposed to get on a plane in a week, but maybe my plane will be t no where cause I cant fix myself so you’ll like me. I’m to damage to deal with. I’ll be stuck alone in out city with soft rolling grass providing friends, in a city, with an invisible person…
I miss you and as I climb the spire to the bell tower of the city I try to figure out a way to fix myself so you will come back. I’m trying, but I find it hard to let someone in. you have the key and I’, willing, but I want to be your equal. Not someone who is scolded for doing one thing or another. I feel like I’ve lost the ability to make you smile. The sun has gone away for weeks in the town. The invisible flowers mold and my eyes grow rings under them. I want this to be our city; I want you here. The bed snapped in half the other night. I sleep on the left side now waiting for you, who is waiting for me.
No comments:
Post a Comment