Saturday, September 3, 2011

it's gradual, i'll get there

what's hard? thank you's are hard when you are biting your tongue but i'll try to mouth it out anyway... it's hard thinking you are too dumb to stand up for yourself, as beautiful as you are. and just thinking that, as i'm talking to you, because i think you're more, so much more than what you have presented to me as the school project. it's hard watching what you do to me when i passed you the other night on the street, i was in a cab and you were rolling a cigarette and time stopped and i couldn't believe my eyes even though my throat felt it; my throat knew what was up. it's hard knowing that you're living a simple southern life that allows you to be lazy and quote-unquote "successful" in you're own right; it's like that family guy when stewie says "the george lopez show only perpetuates that george lopez is funny" that's what i feel about you. your bullshit lies and blue-green eyes don't sweep the stupidity you've offered under the rug. and another thing. who tells someone that you're moving to the acrtic to basically show up on your doorstep uninvited, and all because you were "selling your truck" which i don't believe for a second because i don't believe any of the candy sweets that fall from your lips anymore, no matter how beautifully you try to adorn them. you with your nervous twinges and "secret" hinges, with the hands you so GRACEFULLY let down that day on the couch. you who came into my house and slept in my bed and listened to me love you for hours but when it came down to it, he was just too something to let go. i guess that makes me too easy to let go, too soft to hear, just all the bad "too"s that you could think of, that's what i am, i guess. you are selfish and your words were drenched in honey, the sweet NOTHINGS you let through to the other side of those swinging doors in italy. you taught me about leather, about what happens to it when it's not bound properly; the belt broke. so take that metaphor cause it is the best one i can compare to you and me. hmph. the other side of what? i'm saying as i look into my past through words inked on loose papers bound on a string (irony - that's how i feel about you and me too). the papers have started becoming unbound. so has my patience with you and with me for loving you so hard. you are a beautiful woman, but you're too weak to move (and i mean move not move, and you know what i mean). you're a talented man with no meaning; the one that made me cry, like for real cry, sobbing and heaving, ribs cracking. you have a mountain instead of a molehill and you're really not all that great but the bedroom walls loved us, the way i thought you loved me. you sing me whiskey poems and lure me to bed with perfume i can't somehow resist. you're a girl that refuses history, and puts cd's on repeat, even though the song is just awful. it's hard to see the things that make me sad for life so i'll show them to you so you can keep me company with what i think about when i think of you. and these, how i love to counterbalance and why you have made me feel what i do when i think about the things that make me sad... these, the ones what open me - walking in amber, drenched in dusk, staring into eachother with smiles brighter than colgate could ever imagine. how good the wine tasted when we were both in on the secret, how the rest of it stopped mattering the way it does now for some reason. "this is my first time doing this, i hope you don't... um..." i said to you, into winter snow, warm with candles and youth and lust. "this is my first time doing this, i hope you don't... um..." you said to me, mouth muffled in coves of sheets and humidity. his sickness wouldn't have been as easy without you, and i should say thanks at some point i guess, cause your misery kept me company. the snowstorm was magical, holding hands and finding our way between warehouses, trudging through and through. i love you. but i'm bruised, and you should know, cause i deserve you to. i'm sure my list is longer but i can assure you i have tried to bite my tongue and turn my head and hold my hands together when i talk and avoid your eyes or the thought of you near me or inside me and i promise that i will continue to do so cause when it comes down to it, you have inspired me and i have to thank you so i am even though it may seem like i'm not. but i am. thank you. ~k.

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