Wednesday, September 16

fragments & dust

Something I wrote back in September that i feel called to helps me to re-read this kind of stuff...allowing me to see where I've come from...

what was it about the ebb and flow we couldn't seem to unify into one motionless whole
you masted the ebb
and somehow, i mustered up the means of a flow
your low tide waning
my stream running like that of the santa fe river
in july

that reminds me
wasn't it you that said i would be the one to saunter off
but here i am
wondering where you are
and after all this time
no response from you

three unforgettable winters together
first it was captivating
consumed me practically to digestion
second was unrequited
fueled by my unresolved assumptions
third was
that was the one that disintegrated us
expired us into fragments & dust
the one when we lived in the sage colored shed
behind the periwinkle house with gray trim on madison street

i remember laying in your strong arms watching the feathery fringed snow pile up outside on the deck through the slightly crooked window you carved into the wall
there we were
keeping one another warm with our shared listlessness, despondency and routine allegiance to one another
a job would have made things less languid
direction or purpose would have brought home a sense of inspiration

i wonder if your searching still
i know i am

the antagonism was being reflected back onto each of us
and even though "love filled this room"
we embraced bitterness as a way to release our melancholy
we disposed our internal torment onto each other
like excess fragments of water flying off a hot iron

we were just on the verge of making it
or so i deluded

when february hit
those mustard yellow walls and heliotrope purple linens enshrouded me in comfort
when i arrived there was heat
and even a toilet and kitchen to use
this became the place i took refuge in

oh Seattle
remember those cedar tree nights
sitting under the infamous cloudy Portland sky

i was trying to penetrate us
my fear
but rather
i returned to my familiar pattern
there i sat
protecting my burned, parched heart regardless of the dank, dewey earth we reflected upon
what a contradiction we were
what a pair
i had the wisdom of her ancient heart to lean against
yet my own
deeply brutalized
was stewing in a container of anguish

i wanted so authentically
to let past recollection go
but rather engaged equivocally
in doing all i knew how to do
watching our percolating delusions splatter, spurt, squirt over the sides
of our ever growing pot of apprehension
i became numb to my affliction
my own projected callousness

that was the winter the frigidness painstakingly invaded my heart
as i became as antarctic as snow people do
in the middle of a monsoon winter
i hadn't a clue

shut down
taking up residence in my own subconscious mind
i refused to meet half way
to be the team player i so longed for

i wonder
how will i ever mend this pierced heart?

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