Member Rara Avis
Hi, Vixen. I really enjoyed the poem. Long distance relationships are TOUGH. Mine didn't work out; after two years, we broke apart. Here's an old poem of mine that reminded me of yours:
-crying off the plane-
Our fingertips are 3,000 miles apart.
Our hearts and brains are churning signals,
And we're not there to receive them.
My skin smelled like Dove just half a day ago.
Now I smell like sweat
And soon I'll smell like Dial.
The scenery blurred while I slept.
Now I'm awake; I see buildings
And feel cold Boston air forcing me to shiver.
But the tears have stopped themselves
Because I still do get signals,
I can smell phantom Dove
And I know our fingertips will be resting
On each other soon.
And, for the thrill of it, here's the poem of crashing defeat :
-gravesite, day before easte-r
It was fun being happy, seeing a sky full of clouds and smiling at the rain.
It was a joy to feel someone against me, guarding me from our pain.
Who knows. But I can kneel down by this grave coming through the grass.
I can lean down and kiss it. Feel the dust on my lips.
I can taste licorice and smell apricots, though I always pronounce it wrong.
I can swirl these ashes in my mouth until the future is passed.
My baby is her own and I'm still hers. Why do I do this to myself?
She cleanly severed all but my heart from her body.
It's still hanging on by strings and muscle.
Why do I make it? Why do I bother?
Can anyone find love without destroying their mother?
Can anyone find love and call it a cover? Can I find myself again--?
It's starting to rain. But I have no smile. I have no pain. I have no reign. I have no name.
It's been a while.
Maybe I should let myself be used. Maybe I should take the offer of tits and tongue.
Maybe I should slit my throat with the edge of a shotgun. Maybe I shouldn't cry.
But when her life goes on and mine falls, I have to ask why it matters at all.
I have to force myself to keep from crying. I have to pray to god to keep from dying.
All I wanted was what I'll never receive. So who is it, really, who's been deceived?
I love you; I'm consumed.
I love you.
Anyway, all I can say, stoically and realistically, is the breakup was for the best. Always believe in yourself and the good that life can do. I know it helps me.