this is what i remembered
unbound, rebounded, and unravled myself since march 11th. the last great day i can remember.
a red dot settles itsself under the hazel of my right eye. i bear no rings, but my fathers around my neck. a symbol of two failed loves in it's life time. i spent my day two hours teaching, and at least half that amount of time in the nursery picking out plants. maneuer drenched potting soil, garden gloves. my right side will be more tired tomorrow from all the work. and as i sat down, to finally eat a bite near nine pm, i decided to go to the furniture store and buy a couch. my living room lay empty for the past two months. it echoes in this house. the small floorplan, with the high cielings. the patter of the cats claws on the wood floor, and the thump of my dogs strut across the room fill the house with familiarity. otherwise, foreign. i don't know my life without a half of me that i've lost. he turned nine yesterday, my dog. i took him for a long walk and intended to barbeque him a steak. he understood. he lay in the shade outside the window while i worked. he knows where to find me. him, and him. i dream of meeting in my dreams. i lay awake early mornings. retouching on all the should haves, and filling my heart with pains that i make better by trying not to regret. i've switched to a lighter roast of coffee: that gives me more energy to get through the sluggish times. i made my hair a shade darker, to look less fake. i felt fake. it was so unreal. i looked for a shirt he may have worn last. one untouched by the fabric detergent or softener. one with the scent left to bring me back to years passed. places me at a train station north of LA, with an apple and a water in hand for him. and i sit here refusing any offer to leave this chair. any possibility of forgetting what moments i can remember when i am just quiet and alone. trying to make new ones. myself is what i was ultimately searching for. not another. not skin to fill a touch. or a voice to respond. it was me that i found through all of this. a half has got to be better than this hole.
and i was asked the other day if i am always this happy.
i was speachless at the thought of me hiding my heart so well.
a red dot settles itsself under the hazel of my right eye. i bear no rings, but my fathers around my neck. a symbol of two failed loves in it's life time. i spent my day two hours teaching, and at least half that amount of time in the nursery picking out plants. maneuer drenched potting soil, garden gloves. my right side will be more tired tomorrow from all the work. and as i sat down, to finally eat a bite near nine pm, i decided to go to the furniture store and buy a couch. my living room lay empty for the past two months. it echoes in this house. the small floorplan, with the high cielings. the patter of the cats claws on the wood floor, and the thump of my dogs strut across the room fill the house with familiarity. otherwise, foreign. i don't know my life without a half of me that i've lost. he turned nine yesterday, my dog. i took him for a long walk and intended to barbeque him a steak. he understood. he lay in the shade outside the window while i worked. he knows where to find me. him, and him. i dream of meeting in my dreams. i lay awake early mornings. retouching on all the should haves, and filling my heart with pains that i make better by trying not to regret. i've switched to a lighter roast of coffee: that gives me more energy to get through the sluggish times. i made my hair a shade darker, to look less fake. i felt fake. it was so unreal. i looked for a shirt he may have worn last. one untouched by the fabric detergent or softener. one with the scent left to bring me back to years passed. places me at a train station north of LA, with an apple and a water in hand for him. and i sit here refusing any offer to leave this chair. any possibility of forgetting what moments i can remember when i am just quiet and alone. trying to make new ones. myself is what i was ultimately searching for. not another. not skin to fill a touch. or a voice to respond. it was me that i found through all of this. a half has got to be better than this hole.
and i was asked the other day if i am always this happy.
i was speachless at the thought of me hiding my heart so well.