until i don't.

keep moving
keep going
keep cleaning
and following behind
she's allowing a guilt complex to set in.
there's a strange taste in my mouth about it.
she's allowing all of the things she said she wouldn't.
doing it all wrong.
and that's what she said from the start.
the theme, if you will.
she knew it from the very moment it began.
it's always those trigger moments...
when you're talking and no one heard you.
the stories you told that no one was listening to.
you're recording their words... making mental notes for later...
cherishing
transcribing from head to heart
just the day to day
just so that they feel like someone was listening.
age plays into it.
that's alright then.
some are just learning how.
there's your pass, then, darling.
but the excuse for the rest?
i can't be so sure.
and the shock and horror when they find out you question
but they weren't listening.
i see it.
i let it.

my phone was ringing
and i answered...
hands still soapy.
i knew. oh how i knew.
i told her i knew.
i tried to make my words wrap round her.
but she knew best.
she always knows better.
my words meant nothing.
my voice meant nothing.
it wasn't needed.
it wasn't wanted.
she wanted my silence.
she wanted my ear.
and she'd loathe my silence and beg me to speak.
but shun my words again and again.
til they were echoed in another place.
i see it.
i let it.

the phone was ringing
pulsing twice each time.
a million memories flooded back
but as i was met with the answerphone...
i realized there wasn't time
there wasn't any time.
my voice wasn't wanted.
my voice wasn't needed.
he wanted silence.
my eyes to see.
to understand.
and exist - but don't move.
i see it.
i let it.

we were sitting.
i asked and the words came slow at first...
and then like a torrent.
i raced to catch them all
to record them
to detail them
to remember
to behold.
and as i knelt there,
the silence followed
so i spoke
my words like wine poured out and wasted
he was bored
it didn't matter
it won't be remembered
it wasn't wanted.
it wasn't needed.
he wanted silence
to continue
to be indulged.

and i see them.
and i let them.

until i don't.

You win some, you lose some.
You keep some, you leave some.
Some stay, some go.
Little sayings.
You can say them best when in hindsight.
When the emotion isn't blaring quite so much.
Or perhaps, at first, before it kicks in.
One day, when you're feeling a little low...
when your immune system security has been breached,
you'll feel it.
The words will ring true, but feel trite.
And once you feel better, they'll ring true, and feel like a strength...
like steel reinforcements holding your bones together.
They talked of funerals and weddings.
We shook with fright for the loss of it all.
And the wedding dress looked like her soul was in mourning.
And the goodbyes resounded with hope and bright-eyed souls broke into hymns...
as you were lowered,
as they were lifted.
I'm not one to write or speak in that sort of tone.
I'm not one to dwell on the morbid without care.
My mind is too heavy for such things.
I feel too much.
Rational.
Irrational.
But, speak your piece.
Speak your peace.
I remember some friendships with more fondness than past lovers.
As past lovers.
As another who perceived my mind and my heart and my soul and my personality...
and adored it.
And that is why friendships outlive some of the 'falling in love'-ships by years
And that is why the truest live forever.
And so, before I go about my day, I'll say this.
It isn't one.
It isn't all.
It's just some.
It's just an aimless wandering through those feelings.
It's just my thoughts, man.
It's just careless and yet so full of care.
So, if you're reading, don't go reading into it.
If you're listening, don't go digging to find the lines.
If you're unwrapping, well have a look and then, just taste it.
It may just be a fit of madness.
It may just be a spell of depression.
It may be that I am submerged in a well of revelry.
Whatever it is, it just is.
And, I'll have you know that there are some that I miss.
There are some that I am relieved of their departure.
      and then I feel a little sick for the investments of myself into the dark,
      strange and ungrateful black holes that occupy a human life.
There's so much more to be said.
More songs to weave.
It's all coming in waves, dear.
So wait for the next...
for the storms
for the doldrums
but they'll come.
In a thousand ways...
a thousand shapes...
the waves
they'll come.

It's cold outside.
It feels like the perfect day for snow.
I tried taking a nap.
The bedroom feels so soft with the little lamp lit, and candles flickering and dancing and jumping.
But softly.
Waiting on water to boil for tea.
Yes, we are still in that proverbial season too.
Books and magazines beg me to read them.
The couch calls.
I dream of decorating for Christmas... just a little, so it feels magical.
I dream of one of those lovely red throw blankets to crawl inside.
I daydream of furniture shopping...
and decorating my little home.
But it isn't my little home, exactly.
It's where I grew up.
I'm happy.
I'm content.
I ache.
I'm impatient.
All at the same time, in only the way that a woman seems to be able to be.
I am the flag on the rope in a game of tug of war.
The fibers of my bones are cracking, and I'm really not sure why.

i tried falling asleep last night and found myself back at one of my very first jobs.
reliving all sorts of moments.
and second by second details come raining back in.
at one point, it seemed like such a vague and distant memory.
by the end, i could smell the office and hear the way the door opened and closed.
i remembered their voices and accents.
i felt the crush of my very first broken heart and the stir craziness i would succumb to.
i felt sorry for my young self... like ebenezer scrooge visiting the shadows of his past.
i felt embarrassed for the lessons i would later learn.
i felt happy for the progress that had taken place in my head and in my heart.
i watched the specters glide in and out of the room.
conversations.
i was so young.
i was only a girl.
i remembered my suit.
i remembered just wanting that bmw... and $7000 was such a fair price.
i enjoyed the attention.
i was broken, and it made me feel alive.
i was only a girl, then.
just a naive and curious girl.

Sitting with my tea in hand.
Back in the present.
Too cold and then too hot.
I think I'm coming down with something.
There's a thousand things that need to be done.
And a thousand and one more, I'd like to do.
I need someone to listen.
A snowflake to fall.
An idea... a lightbulb to flash...
An opportunity to take.
I need something.
I need nothing.
I need everything.
I just can't put my finger on it.