... An Ode to Love & Jaded ...
SELF - PRESERVATION
It feels like a beautiful dream that you don’t want to wake up from. Lost in oblivion. Days go by, feels like centuries. Tears flow just as soon as your eyes open. Still fresh in your mind is the taste of yesterday. Sweetness gone bitter.
The eyes glaze over, into a mass fog. Arms stretched out in front of you, trying to feel your way back into the lost. Back into the beautiful dream. Praying that first thing you wake to is those eyes.
Days are just moments waiting to be lived, waiting to be turned into a series of memories. Memories are all we have. The notion of tomorrow only brings on the shooting pains of goodbye.
So you stay embraced with the hope of today. Today, maybe you’ll see that smile again. Today, you may just say what you should have said years ago.
It’s been a year. A year defined as those days that can only be remembered by 365 moments without you. The only comforting thought left in your soul is the conviction that it happened, and it was true. You fight the thought that it was all a lie. Regardless, it happened, you can’t undo history, and you have faith in the fate that history can repeat itself.
There’s no turning back now. Thy will is done. Everything is so far away now. Screaming, you’ll die inside just to feel free again. Your only salvation is to love again, someday. Because it’s a definite certainty that love is out there. It was right in front of you.
It’s only hurt that you fear now. To be fearless is to know that you can love again, and be loved the same. A kiss to clear your mind, that’s all it would take to cure this unforgettable numbing cold.
It’s all we have. It’s all I want. Just one more kiss to remind myself that it can happen, because it already did. Then it slipped away into the morning sunlight.
No one can save you now, except yourself. A deep breath, rest, and a slow pill to calm the restless mind. Drench yourself in the music that you live in. The music that makes you truly you.
Envision those dark eyes, glowing in mine. Arms to hold me as I sleep, and catch me as I fall. Never to have it back again the way it was, or might have been.
So you cake on three weeks worth of eyeliner to shadow the red veins. Pour the mystery on the wound, and move on. Stop wasting time believing in a dream that’s come and past. Stop pretending you’re dead.
Just make a new dream. A new body to haunt you in your slumber. A new voice to dream of. New words to make a smile. New plans to rehearse in your head the million and one ways to say I love you.
Cover the knife in your back with a long black trench coat. Dye your hair black to blend in with the nyte sky. Paint your nails, pierce your skin to mask the old scars, and fade into the new self you will project to the masses.
Smell the rain in the air. Hear the sound of guitars tuning and mics amping. Bright city lights glare to make a type of tunnel vision. Not to look back at anything that could twist the knife further. Cuff yourself to the steering wheel. Don the big black boots again.
Punch the gas and go for a ride downtown. Searching the city streets for a new fix. Let the wind dry your eyes. Breathe in, and feel the comfort of knowing that you can always lie to rest those memories that pain you to this day.
No concoction of medicine could ever ease the agony of being alone, or pull you away from this lonely coma.
Just to climb into those arms, stare back at those eyes, taste those lips, feel that touch, hear that voice, smell that scent, and live in that sixth sense again.
Can you honestly convince yourself that you’ve never felt this way? The pieces of this puzzle fall into place, as fate always wills it so. Now wake up to this old brand new love.
EriN Elaine Sawden
11.17.2005
XXII