I wake alone in my clean white bed, hands shaking just a little. I think of beds I am not in, lives I am no longer welcome to share. I wonder when my toothbrush was thrown out. When my emails were erased. When my phone number was deleted. When was I erased, when did I cease to matter. There are men sleeping in rooms in this city, and I know what they look like, I know their walls, their sheets, their night mutterings, and if I could say just one thing it would be I am sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry.
posted by ttractor @ 10:32 AM
12 Comments:
i wish erasing happened at a mutually determined pace...
For me it is "Do you miss me? Do you miss me? Do you miss me?"
The poet in me hears (as I hope you hear) that our refrains are identically metered.
Ohhhhhh, you're killing me here...
But I can handle it.
You've heard this tune before (in different guises) but your wide open, confessional way of writing just pulls and pulls on me-- at my heart. It's not a bad thing... My heart just goes to you. It wants to run to you and do whatever it takes to put you in a happy place. You should have that. You deserve it.
ALSO
I read this and I think, "What could she have possibly done? Surely the breakups weren't her fault." You see, in my eyes, you can do no wrong. Oh, I know, I know, you're no saint. But still...
Eastwest, I am not sure that I did anything wrong, really. Perhaps I don't mean to take responsibility, but to empathize with or wish away whatever hurt they have.
Dr. S, oh, I would so hope to be missed. But in these cases I believe I have been obliterated, and perhaps that is a kindness I do to myself.
Ohhhhhhh... it was all of those sorry's that misled me. I'm going to go back and reread it with this new knowledge.
Hmmmmm, maybe you are a saint afterall.
oh, god, no please I am no saint. I run my mouth, I say stupid things, I am awkward, I am fearful. But I do try really really hard not to be.
Oh ttractor you're dazzlingly human
you lift me up
what awkwardness you possess (if it can be called such) adds to your complex beauty
knowing you are in the world heartens me
know that
but I'm just a no account jerk
But you must keep in mind that we have seen your heart... and saints were quite human. :o)
Wait a minute-- aren't you the Patron Saint of Overlooked Orange?
may I take this opportunity to say thank you for your generousity? Thank you.
I have said it before, but will again--I am so humbled to be allowed into your head(s). To be heard, to become visible, is something I desire profoundly but also fear.
(Remue, that you hear me gives you a particular value in this funny 2-D world.)
(EastWest, I am impressed with your attentiveness...Patron Saint of Forgotten Orange! But, oh, what a burden! gah!)
I'm not sure I like the notion that I have value only insofar as I am "someone looking" - 'tis pretty meager
... makes me wanna stop looking
you hearten me - and de-value me
a dynamic I can do without in my life
RM, I apologize, I meant that in response to your statement of being "a no-account jerk." And I don't think of you as a "looker" which sounds passive and simplisttic, but as a "hearer" which is much more complex. See?
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