your annotations were never straight lines
and I only learn things the hard way, it seems
you could have said “I told you so”
and I would have laughed, agreeing
you predicted it, didn’t you?
I gave my whole heart, and he experimented
how many different ways he could make it bleed
severing arteries & veins from chambers,
snapping elastic in valves, giving me back flow
clipping heart strings just to floss his teeth
.
flash forward, it’s December 2020
the water is crystal this morning
labyrinth lungs are clear today
and when the condensation falls
it collects like starlight on the water’s surface
sometimes, Johnson loses Johnson, his kinsman
behavior a frantic flight against the glass, chasing reflections
until they find each other again, swimming in unison
as if the separation never happened
you and I are like that too
our souls made of the same stuff, transcending physicality
and the colors didn’t look right when we were apart
the colors haven’t looked right in two summers, then
but I get it now, why you never take the highway
there are so many more possibilities, driving the back roads
and here we are, loss and devastation
each laugh, each smile a battle won
here we are stitching ourselves together again
.
the last time I saw me, I was nineteen
plunging lawn chairs into lake water
watching the afternoon sky in quiet camaraderie
the last time I saw me, I was nineteen
and I was yours & mine, twin souls whole for the first time
that’s what I used to think, think before this October
now I’m twenty-one, leaving letters in your mailbox again
and everyone says, ever since I left him, I wear my skin right
I’m not so pale, personality suppressed by the bags under my eyes
they say I am myself again, vibrant, alive, and I have to agree
hope isn’t holding your breath for a year, waiting
accepting bruised kisses and glares like shivs in the meantime
dreaming that one day, things will get better
hope is enjoying the lilies on the windowsill
watching them die and knowing,
even if they don’t bloom next year,
how lovely, to have witnessed such beauty
how lovely, to have known their story
it will take some adapting, you said over and over again
and I think that’s why this year isn’t so bad
it’s not a still life, a photograph, a freeze frame
it’s kinetic energy, dynamic, constantly changing
.
that afternoon at Murphy’s Point, sun filtered through pines
sitting at a picnic table, you predicted the outcome
and maybe that drowned woman they found in the water,
a month later, should have been indicative enough
but your annotations were never straight lines
and I only learn things the hard way, it seems
Just Thoughts 