we could be friends
you wanted me.
But it’s clear,
Filtering by Category: night writing
When I replay every memory, he’s the bad guy. It’s like in each photo, thought, and memory from the past four years, this person who I knew and loved is somehow replaced with a hooded bandit. In these new memories he wears a black mask over his eyes. He is sneaky. He wears black gloves and carries a burlap sac where, with a light touch, he puts away trinkets he’s swiped from me over the years.
Yesterday we said goodbye. When he kissed my forehead, he put his hand to my chest, as if to try to reach my heart one last time. And before he left, he gave it all back. He handed me the bag filled with the bounty he collected over the past four years. I surveyed the bag’s contents: broken glass and mirror, rusted jewelry, faded photos. Each item he’d taken was returned shattered, wore, or ruined. My blue striped teakettle, my small beaded jewelry box, a silver necklace my mother had given me on my 18th birthday. All these treasures, like me, diminished.
I pulled out some of the shattered bits and held them in my fist. I didn’t care that they cut into my skin. I couldn’t feel. I couldn’t cry. I didn’t know he’d taken these things from me. I didn’t know he was a bandit. That is the hardest part, I don’t even know that he is. But whatever he is, he’s gone and I’m alone with just my shattered bits and bloodied hand. I’m alone again, broken again, and sitting on my floor wondering, ‘what now?’
I'm feeling very lost right now.
I wonder, are you too?
It hit me rather suddenly
A fog wave passing through.
It floats at shoulder length, I think,
Cause when I'm standing tall
And figuring which way to go
My instincts hit a wall.
But when I stick my head below,
As if to tie my shoe,
It's suddenly so clear to me
What I had planned to do.
The path I mapped out months ago
Is just some miles ahead
But stand back up and try to walk,
It just escapes
You appeared in my dream last night--
A dusty memory that shocked me to my core.
You smiled your devilish grin and,
suddenly, I was 15.
Your slimy words slithered into me,
"Great to see you..." they hissed,
"Can I see you again before I leave?"
The black pit rolling around in my stomach got bigger
"Sure," I managed.
--In fell my lungs.
After I walked away,
from having seen you
for the first time in so long,
I cried. Well, dream me cried.
My dream self mourned for the broken-
hearted youth you left behind
so many years ago
in your trail of destruction.
The poor young girl who,
still lives inside me--
15, weak, and broken.
She grips her insecurities
like an even younger me
might've gripped my stuffed dog's paw.
I woke up.
It was a dream, of course I woke up.
But the black pit never subsided
and my mind couldn't stop kept lingering
on the his playful smile
and his gentle touch that burned
A scab, it seems, I picked raw
--aching, bleeding, fresh,
like when I was 15.
She fumbled with her keys as they got to the door.
"I had a really not terrible night tonight."
"I had a not terrible night too," He smiled.
She paused. Her heart beat at such a normal rate she hardly noticed it in her chest. "Well," she opened the door slowly, "goodnight."
"Let me grab that for you." His hand glazed over hers and for a slight second they stood still, eyes locked.
She turned her head, brushing a single escaped curl back behind her ear. "Thank you."
As the door closed behind her she blew a kiss. Not a terrible night at all, she thought as she walked through the hallway towards her apartment.