Drowning
I’m scrabbling
But in water there is nothing to grab.
I’m trying to save something
But the numbness has set in.
Falling
I’m letting sleep take hostage
But still wish that it wasn’t over.
I’m crying
But the tears seem ironic at sea.
Dying
I’m watching life pass in my mind
But the flashes of hope hurt
I’m wanting to scream your name
But what good would it do?
You’re gone & I’m fading fast.
Drowning
I’m scrabbling at anything
But in water there is nothing to grab.
I’m trying to save something
But with no
I don’t apologize
No regrets
& no lies
But things got complicated
When I blurred the lines
I thought if you forgave me
We could move forward
& forget
My little fuckup
A stolen kiss
From a straight girl,
But you keep pushing me away
Even as you pull me closer.
It’s a game of cat & mouse
But I’m not sure which one
Is you
Know your role
& all the worlds a damn stage
But I keep messing up my lines,
My acts are erratic.
I see a dream that would put Shakespeare to shame
But it’s just that,
A ghostly apparition
Something that isn’t quite real
But has the power to haunt me still.
2:
We talked all day, the wrinkles In
Grammy’s eyes creasing as she listened. I followed her around, worse than the shiny coated boxer they kept named Joy in this 1970’s eclectic box house with its pastel blue walls & tinged wooden chair. She twittered away, asking about this & that, then injecting random gossip about pastel cowboy boots wearing neighbors that I’m sure she’d wave to in a grocery store.
She was more beautiful than I could imagine.
Sometimes I would look up & catch her in a moment so candid, it took my breath away.
It was a sunny Saturday morning, where the sweat just sticks to you & your clothes feel like a second skin, a tightness that could described as a muggy existence. That’s New Orleans in the summer for you. I woke up in a tangled mass of blankets & her auburn gold locks like ropes circling the pillows, curving around her features & making her look like an Irish sleeping beauty, the freckles like years that dotted her face, rites of passage until her hero could be found. I just wanted to hold her. Instead I just watched her sleep. Her slight breath making her nostrils flare, just enough to make her look austere. Somehow, my reverie was broken & we had our usual bickering except this time there was an aggressive tension, an underlying violence that I could not quite identify until she took it to far & I was again left quiet.
Ty: Bae..?
Me: ….
Ty: What are you doing?
She yanked the blaring headphones out of my head, as Elle Goulding faded as gravity pulled them down towards the cracked wood that surrounded our front door. I looked at her, an uneasy silence enveloped between us.
Me: I’m going to do the laundry, I need to switch it over.
I gestured dramatically at the basket on my hip, clothes threatened to overpower my small dark frame.
With that I swept past her as she screamed out to me: One day I won’t be here when you leave.
I stood on the steps, paused in shock.
But as came up the steps, I could hear country blaring from a salvaged ‘60’s radio. It was her favorite piece of furniture. I strode past it, into the bedroom & began to shed my clothes, until a pair of lace boyshorts & grey tank top were left. I buried my tears into the jersey sheets, letting the softness muffle my silent cries & heavy breathing.
