You remind me of the sound of the sea.
The churning of waves against the tide.
The current as it crashes into rock.
Tell me….
How did you navigate the world and in spite of yourself know where to find me?
How long have you been looking?
I’ve watched you times before and I still love it when you breathe silently throughout your sleep.
Your love is a trench of waters that still lay uncharted.
Can I navigate the waters within your heart? Love?
Paradise is in your eyes.
I see starlight in them with blue skies.
You are my sun.
And I do love you.
Of course I do….
I constantly think
about you every second
within every day.
I can’t wait to see
you again because we click
and clearly; I do love you
because you’re special to me.
I love you so much
that sometimes I can barely
breathe your name out loud
and I miss you very much.
I couldn’t believe that after seeing that I was not the one,
that he never really thought about me.
I felt I couldn’t breathe without him breathing and I felt so much pressure on myself for trying to tell him that I loved him that I had incidentally jumped the gun.
I loved you probably more than I loved myself; and I guess I fell too fast, thinking you’d understand me that I forgot how you’d feel firsthand so I left because I probably still do.
Yet; there was something so beautiful, so sacred, so innocent and yet so profane about him, that I told him I loved him but I never saw him again….
And maybe in a few years,
I’ll probably see you again;
And maybe we could go over
all the decisions we’ve made
and we could laugh along the way
about everything that seemed
irrelevant in our lives….
The chapters in your life
would be compared to mine
along the way….
I think of you like
you are literature
because you are in
a secret dialect that
touched our souls before time came.
That night he kept looking at me. Those side glances. If I wasn’t in love, I would’ve let him rip my heart out, but the only problem was that I wasn’t and yet I was.
If there was an angel, I could swear I saw it in his eyes. But there was the devil in himself that was burning to get put out. I swear he didn’t want it. And yet I could have swore he was the devil himself.
Something told me that sometimes he wanted to kill me and sometimes; I swore that sometimes he just didn’t.
It was a pain so profound that he probably just might kill me as I lay me down to rest.
So that night I had decided to find out why he was stalking me so I took his life.
He was used to killing women the very same way he took them. He’d rip their heart out and then slit their throats.
He was addicted to doing it like it was a good, fine wine but yet a very poisonous medicine.
“I could’ve given you everything you wanted!” I yelled after him as he fought me on the deck of the boat. “ I could’ve had everything I wanted! But no!”
He looked at me like I was a barbarian; a mad woman.
Deep down I couldn’t stand him looking at me like that. So I leapt off the boat and with a guilty conscience as crouched as my back, I looked up at him, got up and ran to hide the pain in my heart.
I took him. I took another life in deed and in debt.
Gary was best being who he was. Not because he kept the faith but he kept a sane mind.
Unlike Joe, Bob, Billy n’ me.
Now Barry, he could write well. But not as well as me.
Used to tell Gary when nights were young, “Have you ever tasted Southern blood under a young Southern moon?”
And Billy would look at me and say I’s crazy and I belonged to ‘em.
Barry would laugh at me and say I was fruity.
Things were about to get ugly.
“A candle in the wind” and “a light that never goes out” scares the socks outta me.
Nothing “real” is scary anymore and that my friend, is enough.
How can you tell the taste of rotting meat from bittersweet?
It’s macabre and it tends to leave the bland taste of bile as it marinates the mariner’s mouth and the taste of saltwater sweetens the last gulps of air into internal screaming that suggests intoxication.
The bullet was carving carefully into carnage at my skin through my knee-bone; my joints being blown out as the bullet broke through cap through skin, then flesh and then through bone and backwards again as saltwater filled it sending both my knees a vibration.
The sweet sensation is carnage in the battlefield, but not the battle zone in itself but sheer hell until you felt the light go out of the hellfire.
I imagined that the world’s biggest heartache was still on the boat with me.
“Gary? Do you love me?”
My head started getting high on pure sea salt when it came out.
“Love me?”
I staggered to say.
It burbled out of me with fire in my lungs; my chest as a final heave gave way through bile and a mouthful of kisses and sweet nothings as I choked.
Both bile and sea water.
The taste of bittersweet.