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palabrapoetica in writetothe_sky

Zen

"Listen, it's the simple things."  That's what he always said to me, "Listen to the birds in the morning, I know you can hear them from your window."  I don't know how he could have known that - I suppose he assumed.  Assumptions are something that always bothered me in the past, but when he made them something was different. It was like he spoke the truth.  Slowly, he was becoming my deity - I looked to him for my dreams, I looked at him for solutions to my problems, and I looked for him to love me.

I thought it happened, once, outside the convenience store a block from where I was living at the time.  He turned to me and said, "I don't know what I'd do without you."  I thought that was love. I thought love was never wanting to be without a person. He was with me, I think even when he didn't know it.  I was mislead, and I see that now.  I thought he was teaching me that love can feel like your ribcage is made of steel and you're heart is trapped there, throbbing, revolting against the jailer.  That love can taste like spearmint gum, and smell like cheap cologne, that it sounds just like a heartbeat and steady breathing in a warm bed.  The only real thing he taught me was that love is when you squeeze your eyes shut as tightly as you can and never want to open them because you're scared of anything else.  It was a trap.

He might have been a genuinely nice person. I'm not sure, and I don't think I ever will be.  The way it ended filled me with a spite that I can't ever see leaving me completely.  This was a long time ago, I should have forgotten about him, but the bitter taste won't leave my mouth.

Comments

I love your first and second paragraphs so much it's scary.

April 2010

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