The Ghost of You Lingers May 4, 2010

This was a mistake.

I can track my mistake back to leaving that message. No, to leaving Seattle. No, to suggesting we go to Los Angeles. No, to moving to Redlands. No, to leaving Santa Cruz. No, in fact, it goes back even further. My first mistake was somewhere along the Arno, the Ponte Vecchio.

Sure, I can recall my first mistake. But my biggest mistake? Letting you go, even though you’re everywhere. It was a huge mistake to think that I could forget you, that I could outrun you, that I could move on, that I could let you go.

You’re everywhere. You’re across the street in front of the skateshop. You’re hanging from a hook in the coffee shop. You’re on my itunes. Facebook wants us to be friends. Oh, Facebook. If you only knew.

You’re in the back of my throat, you’re the string tied to my finger, trying to remind me of what…you? You’re in my dreams every night, you’re just one footfall behind me, one lingering scent in front of me. You’re the shade of an elm tree, the foam on top of a latte, an eyelash on my cheek. I snore your name at night, and feel your scruffy cheek when the wind blows. You’re my own true love, lost at sea.

Except, you’re not lost at sea. You live in the same place where I left you, the biggest mistake. You drive the same car to the same job, listening to the same songs, consuming the same drinks. The only thing that is different is that I’m not there. Are you content with that?

And me, well, I’m floundering, but I’m still me, with the sleepy eyes, the pink lips, slouching into myself. Somehow, yes, I am still myself, ready to take on adventure, but unable to let you go. Or unwilling? Only time will tell.

I meet other boys, I do. But I turn down their offers to go out, I look the other way when someone meets my eye. And even when I hold someone else in my arms, I pretend that it’s you, as it should be.

I can almost see us, strolling by, holding hands and laughing, the sun glinting off of our sunglasses, the warmth no comparison for the love between us. That’s how it used to be, at least. You were my shield, and I was…well, I was your girl.

Maybe my first real mistake was thinking that love can last forever.
Maybe my first real mistake was thinking that love would be enough.
Maybe my latest mistake is holding on to hope, instead of a life vest.

Looking at the world from the bottom of a storm drain February 9, 2010

I’m sitting in a coffee shop directly across from the store where, standing in the dark, swirling night, we touched for the very first time, lips to lips, hand to hand, heart to heart. Where I was certain that I was in love with you, and pretty sure you were in love with me.

Staring at skateboards and trendy t-shirts, we embraced, and the whole world stopped as I looked into your eyes and just knew. We had the future in the palm of our clasped hands, and cupid laid out a perfect, if long, road for us.

Until.

Until we split apart, destroyed by emotions, loving each other so much that we collapsed, we couldn’t handle it any more, too blind to know how to take care of each other any longer. Too afraid, too tired, too much.

I think about you everyday, although I try not to.

The rain falls down, like it did in Seattle, and I’m staring at the site where we first loved, wishing that magically, you’d appear and I would forget everything and lie down in the middle of the wet gray street, singing your name, unafraid and whole. If I stare long enough, will you appear? Will you come back? Will you…

will you?