Tell Me Our Story

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It’s been too long since I’ve asked anyone to tell me a story
Will it always be thus?
Every word you utter, I blindly see as an answer
Each time you glance my way, I feel all is well in my world
My breath stays caught in my throat
I await a sign you’re paying attention
My hands clench to keep from wringing with anticipation
You speak and I hear water rushing to smooth rough stones
You smile and I swear I could die of joy in that moment

How will you ever know how close I was to my end
Are there any combinations of words I could make
To make you see the cubist portrait of my psyche
And how I have turned cozy impressionist

Tell me anything you want
I will listen to stories, stats, swearing
Anything but stillness
Tell me truths or lies or wishes
I just want to hear your voice
As you wear me down and polish me
My own ideas pushed aside awhile can’t hurt
That’s when the big waves come
And tell their own endings to our story

Ode to Converse

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People wondered why we didn’t work
What happened
When it seemed we were a perfect fit
Our pro list outweighed the cons

How to explain the intangible discomfort
The puzzle that fit but was jarring to the eye
The plaid and polka dots and stripes all vying for attention
Within a dusty slate

Like wearing rented bowling shoes
They don’t fit quite right
They smell a bit funny
They look a bit tacky
You have to tread carefully
Because it’s easy to slip and fall

Like the most beautifully sexy pair of heels
That were too tight and hurt with the first step
Like the ungainly weatherproof boots
That smothered you from the elements
Like the cozy slippers, filthy and fungal
That you knew needed to be discarded

Nothing could satisfactorily cover the naked foot
And I didn’t realize it until I found Converse to comfort me.

Lingering Goodbye

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It wasn’t the first goodbye
They’d both been battered by the waves
So many times they had come close
“I love you” was just too hard
And not nearly enough

Youth was long gone
More than innocence had been lost
Too many questions would be left behind
Regret only for why not what once was
That was too simple

This goodbye would linger
Longer than other memories
The gaping holes in each of their days
Would never quite close up enough
To keep cold thoughts at bay

Rereading old letters
Was too dangerous
Though it helped to remember
All they had left
Were words

Hollow Balloon

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He moved so smoothly through me
So deftly he stole my pride
So swiftly my heart
He always seemed in shadow
Hidden
Hollow
We stared out his window
Sultry summer
Sweet heavy air
We spoke of poets and moons
Never doubting
Never counting
He held the moment like a balloon on a string
He held me like I was new
But the balloon and I were let go easily
We knew our little story
We didn’t need any others
But there’s always an end
He can’t pretend
We can’t go back
That little room above the shop is locked.

The Breakdown of the Breakup

TheBreakUp
The reasons were numerous and ludicrous. They tried to talk it out calmly, but logic was not welcome here. There- an argument that made no sense. There- a request too disgusting to dignify with a response. On the one hand everything fit. They looked right. They fit just right. They were already traveling side by side. Why not join in other elemental ways? On the other hand, she was strung way too tightly, he was a pig. She was looking to slip into sophistication. He was looking to live out a real life porno.

Sometimes there is no middle ground when what you’re looking for isn’t even on the same plane. How they didn’t see this coming, nobody knew. Their volatility was obvious to even a casual bystander. Every day at lunch, they bantered at the pizza place on the square, scorching wit paired with playing footsie under the table. Sparks flew. Curses abounded. It was all very entertaining. But there was a brittle edge that belied the ease of the relationship.

She was a rookie in the corporate world, taking in her surroundings. He was a shark, swimming and feeding and fucking with no conscience. Their appeal originally had to be proximity. Too many hours in the office. You pass a decorated cake often enough, you’ll want a piece even if you’re more the pie type. They would soon find they weren’t even made of the same stuff; she was a German Chocolate cake, with several ingredients and complicated timing. He was a bear claw- a fried piece of dough with sweet icing and fierce appearance. OK. Enough with the bakery analogies.

Somehow, their wildly different backgrounds and cultures had been overlooked at the outset. They were dazzled by the sleek, new models they found in each other. The new car smell was intoxicating, so to speak. Before getting into vehicular metaphors, we can just come to an understanding that all was new and glorious and exciting, as it always is in the beginning. What was surprising in this case was the speed at which their “love” imploded. There is an acceptable trajectory and this was like a fast-moving comet.

Can too many metaphors spoil a saucy tale?

So back to the breakup. She wanted to see this through, give it a shot, at least have a last hurrah. He wanted to do things to her that made her gag. Someday maybe she’d have regrets, but she was still young enough to be shocked. Someday he’s find someone he wouldn’t want to use as a foul toy, but he was too jaded at that point in time to have any focus.

So there was yelling. Pushing. Nudity. Shock. Sleep. Accusations. Jokes. Incredulity. Leering. Magnetism. Ten states of matter that mixed and proved combustible to this couple. They would later only have flashes of memory of their time together. How they walked through the city, quickly and in step with each other. How they shared a few quiet moments in the elevator. How they ate in companionable silence and danced in a darkened club. How they moved together. Looked to each other. Like shards stuck in amber, those few moments will last longer than either of them would admit.

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