12.1.10
there are a million things i could say to you in a thousand different ways - but none of them could speak to me the way you did that day.
to feel the flesh reopened, a twist in a mind with no feelings, numbed by a night that never took place. a collection of lashes to the face of my disease.
a million ways to get back inside and every single one from me you hide.

BLONDE
your words and light-air smile entangle morning and evening and lay me in between. the beauty of something new caressing the path of well-worn soles and overflowing souls.
when i know i have so much to give and i can see it all reflected back at me in the pools of your eyes - welling with too many consequence-drenched thoughts from your pretty head. and if my eyes dropped empty, would you catch me when i fall? and if i enclosed you in a million dreams i could barely tell you of, would you be there when i awoke? and if he could never fill your heart, would you take my hand?

WASH
fingers slow across a clean table and the rest of it doesn't make sense. when i think of words i could have said and how it's only comfortable to only think of you. when it's the biggest destruction to myself to do this to you. and the emptiness that walks hand in hand with decisions like these. but i don't wanna talk this over. and i don't wanna work this out. i want this destruction. i want this huge culmination of everything we've ever stood for to crumble to the floor and find no broken pieces, no little traces, of our weaknesses - like burning embers never dying.
and the wind could carry this for miles and miles, through deserts and streams of other losses, withered and dead, and i could sleep so that i might never see you ever again

ECHOES
the fire found a new gathering place the day you packed your things and ran away to save your face from seeing me this way anymore. and the river you ran through made silly pools inside of me - wet memories that never seem to dry. i can't believe we've slipped...
no more echoes when my heart beat faster. no more games where you'd hide from me. no more hands clutched tight and sand stretched far trickled away when you found your way home.

THE PAGE THAT TEARS WITH EACH LOOK BACK
i can't remember your face. i can read your words and re-create everything, almost, yet i can't erase your name. clouds stand perfect in the way of my eyes' view of you, and it's driving me mad. it gives me a killer's steady pulse, the way i'll victimize myself. and still, thoughts of you blur the path to your love. still thoughts grow a little too stagnant, and watching makes waiting less worth the while. but i'd rather re-create everything, distorted as it is, than lose it all to a hope of something new.

ENOUGH
and what was that you said, your voice hung around my neck. your hand resting on mine. what was that you said, those words unobtainable. you spoke through me and said enough, if you said it at all, you said, "enough."
and my heart without rest. my hands gripping at nothing but the space between your palms and your smallest breath, as i felt you drop, slide and fade away.
you're never not in my mind, even as i feel you drop, slide and fade away.

LAST
you can do it slow. you can wash your friends away. you can do it slow. savor each last second. you can do it slow. waste this time with a rope and a promise.
you can do it slow.

all words © ben londa, 1997.