I am quite sure you are going to kill me one day. I can still picture your shy smile in my head after all this time. I should be angry with you. But I can't be. I lay back and stare up at the stars. The graveyard is the only place dark enough to see them. I remember going to the planetarium in elementary school and the feeling i got when the lights went out and the stars dotted the ceiling. I feel small, a speck in the giant eye of the universe. It's a comforting feeling for me.
*****
I first saw you kneeling by a grave, trailing your slendar fingertips across the lettering. Your eyes filled with some unclassifiable emotion. For some reason, I walked towards you laying a hand on your shoulder. I felt compelled by some outside force to erase that look off your face. your eyes met mine. "She was so young." My arms wrap around you and you sob into my shoulder. We'd spend many nights together, crying on each other's shoulders.
*****
The mist rolls into the graveyard, hanging just above the graves. I wish my eyes were cameras so I could take pictures of everything I see when I come here. Everything that reminds me of you. I want to ask if you are here with me but the words get stuck in my throat. I already know you're not here. i am freezing, my blood turning to ice. But you don't make me cold. Sometimes i wish I could seep into the ground and become part of you. I feel like I'm dying. A tiny piece of me every day. I try to maintain control over myself but here? It doesn't matter here.
*****
Before I know it, i am crying. I feel so fucking stupid. I don't want to be a wreck. I want to be together for you. I know I promised I would. I failed you. I am so sorry for that. I wish I could tell you how sorry I am for the way I've behaved. My fingertips caress the headstone in the same way you did all those years ago. "I never told you enough how much I loved you." I curl up by your headstone and close my eyes. Tonight, the only place I can sleep is here. With you.
Monday, April 13, 2009
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Nice oblique approach, indirect, sideways, keeping back a lot, untethering material from ordinary moorings, nicely linked vignettes. I feel if I don't completely understand but somehow am not confused--then the piece has worked on an emotional level. That's what I think here.
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