For all the things I didn’t say
For all the things I did
As in all stories, it began when we met. And, as in all stories, it does not end in death. But, for now, let us believe time to be unidirectional. We met at that age when we thought we were grown-ups. Now we know better. There is no growing up, only growing old. We took our youth and insanity for granted. I saw you and all I thought was, “Who are you? Where did you come from? On so many levels, where did you come from?”
We mixed our youth with a whole load of crazy and the result was all things unexpected. We found murky waters ripe with floating amoebas and the thoughtless movements of cilia. We found the space where still waters and violent air meet earth. We became fire and light and desire. This new existence of mass and density gave our thoughts something to cling to. Wishes acquired names and those names became hope.
We were young, crazy, and oh-so-fucking beautiful. But the world only ever acknowledged the swamp and grime and the blood left to cure after battles fought leaving that nebulous existence that never stopped trying to call us back home. The weight of our new bodies slowed time into something distinct and measurable. We only understood the Now and forward was our only gauge. Time became unidirectional and hope played in the infinite.
The world looked away, incapable of recognizing we all come from that haze. They paint smiles over their sneers as they turn their backs. That is, until nightfall, when they would try to tempt us into their beds. But hypocrisy takes itself so seriously. Vacant eyes over lips pulled back into a bestial grin told us none too kindly to fuck off. It wouldn’t occur to them that we were already halfway out the door. Their last wasted breath on us was all we needed to become something more. Finally initiated into the rites of Other. What else was there to do but laugh? I took your hand and you never let go. But those are stories of the Aftertime best left for another day.
I challenge Time to re-arrange my words because in the exorbitantly innumerable possibilities of the universe, only one — one, mind you — only one possibility must be that all possibilities exist. For now, on this line, in these pages, I am in the Here. And every time someone reads these lines, I will be in the Here again. And only those who birthed these times, this Now, this Here, can understand our lives will never become unentwined. It would be so easy to hate you for not letting me come see you, even if all I did was watch you sleep. Hate you for leaving me. Alone. Surrounded by jack-assery. Now who will call me Sweets and Love, along with a few naughty words spoken with a small chagrin as I blush at their truth.
I lay in bed while I ride the silence back to the inevitable Here. They buried you today. One thousand one hundred miles away from your resting ground, the thunder skies cry for you, my friend. They take my tears, leaving me dry and hollow. My body calls back to the Before, consumed by the wanting. But we cannot go backward. We altered time in our rush to be in the Here. The swamp calls but offers no protection.
My memories echo in this newly forced chamber. All the jokes that made you laugh. All the jokes that knocked but never came in. All the smiles, even the ones used to cover broken hearts that you reconfigured into strength. Rage and hatred have but one face. It is red and toothy, furrowed, and always the same. But joy has as many faces as there are joyous thoughts. And because of you, I became a woman of 10,000 faces.
It would be easy to hate you because pop songs make sense. I plug up my ears and fill my mind with songs that rebound and resound in this vacuous space of Now but nothing is louder or stronger than the memories. I couldn’t have loved you more. Even when you cheated at pool. You made me a better person. Kinder, wiser, calmer, dare I say, happier? Did you know these things. Did you ever feel my love for you? When I broke us, did you feel my shame? Were you the one I met too early? Too young, too arrogant, too ignorant, too selfish.
The rain stops on cue. The skies let me fill; force me back to bed because there is no escape and I’m drowning again. Too full of you to know what I am without you. Too full of you to understand that you have left me; that the Now is too late to make it right. That when I call, I won’t hear your voice. Your name isn’t going to pop up on my phone at the same time I was thinking of you. My next birthday will be spent doing what I always do — wait for the call you know I won’t answer so that I can replay one of the worst renditions of the Happy Birthday Song I will never hear again.
Just come back. This is the worst joke ever. I need you back. You left me. Left me alone in this insanity that will never cure. Who is going to show me when the sky is beautiful? It’s just a sky. Or is this a test? Please let this be a test. I need the hug that compresses my lungs and divides my heart to make more room for your love. A hug that literally takes my breath away and stops my heart from beating, stops my lungs from pulling in oxygen until I tap out. Just come back. I promise not to tap out. Not now. Not ever again.
I have no pretty words to give you for all you gave me. These thoughts are —
5half-formed because there is only empty space where you used to be. Writing is an act of self-indulgence and the only necessity. Will you curse me when I hit that “Publish” button or love me more? The only certainty being that nothing will be the same. But that’s a story for the Aftertime.
The body is demanding sleep, babygirl. Please come lay down by me. You know you love my hammock. Lay down with me and take my hand. Help me remember but remind me to forget.
Wherever you are, save me a seat.
And by-the-way, I love you.
