Don’t tell anyone but I used to be a fly on the wall of bricks and I used fly by flies full of wonder. Its wonderful when you worry but flies live and die in a day. “Stay” I imagined myself saying a thousand times over and over til my words turned to dust and it must’ve dried out my throat because even while I shivered under my coat, I didn’t call out for help, I called out your name to bring sweetness back to my lips.
And we were fighters, lighters of today’s happenstances. Stabbing lances at others, trying to ignite a soul at night. We were the fun in the midnight sun, we had the words but no one ever told me that saving others was for the birds.
Now hurricane rain pours down on my windshield and the wind yield’s debris on my broken window and me. I’m somewhere on the I-10 and I tend to my wounds like trying to make diamonds out of charcoal. Selfish asshole, I move but the story is always the same. Namely, the characters are always reoccurring. Reassuring myself that it’s all in my head, and promising myself that soon I’ll be dead, I carry on the road.
On this road I have met two, true, more than that but two have meant making memories rather than letting go. Forgetting so many others who meant little makes my friendship brittle. Do I pick and choose, do I trick and lose? Do I mimic and peruse? Does any of it matter?
There’s only the first two, beauties that see through me. They would never love me like I love them but then again, they wouldn’t be sure of that. Back then I was foolish enough to love, praying that my heart would go unheeded. “Deep seeded self esteem issues” they told me I had but truth is I’m useless to the only women I have loved.
The first one taught me how to live, to enjoy the world, whatever it hurled at you. She chuckled my satisfaction and wore her attraction beautifully. Truthfully, she thought she wanted me but I knew better like the driver of the hearse, it’s always been my curse. Now she resides by the tides of Texas and next to as much happiness as her face can muster.
The second one I won’t write about, not because it’s different with her but because it was worse.
It’s okay. It’s okay when you leave. When you’re not around. It’s okay when I sit, by myself, looking over to your empty seat. It’s okay when I’m alone. It’s okay when it hurts. It’s okay with me because I can’t give up. I can’t stop. I won’t stop. Because as long as I can breathe, I’ll make myself laugh it off and move on to the next one. Because it’s okay. I’m okay. I’m always okay.