Stars and Walls

September 24, 2009

sand

I want to be back in that room…

Back between those sand-colored walls that saw you and absorbed you…

I want to lay in that white bed.. And look at the ceiling. Count the mismatched spotlights. Stare at the orangish cupboards I always hated, and you always praised.

That room.. That prison.. That safe haven that kept us locked in, and kept our secrets secret. The walls that listened to your moans and smelled your sweat. Those walls.. I want to touch those walls… How many memories.. How many symbols.. And how much longing can all be in one room?

That theatre.. Where we performed.. And made wishes.. Made crimes.. Materialized our sins. Over and over again.

Maybe because it’s small.. Intense.. condensed.
Maybe that is why I see you in it so vividly.. Your naked back.. Your hair.. Black as coal against your white skin.. Long.. Then shorter.. Then shorter.. Why did you cut your hair?

I want to be in that corner where you cried.. Apologize for you again and again for being in love, and being so harsh at it. If I could just keep you in there with me all day and stare in your eyes and forget all about the “others”… The momentaries.. The newcomers.. And those who stay.

If I could have them all lined up on that wall and cross them out with a piece of chalk. Erase them and erase with them all the mistakes that made these walls weaker.. My walls weaker.. My hugs less nourishing.. My kisses less desirable.

Oh what that piece of chalk could do.. And how it could put back everything in its rightful place. And I would then have no dreams of her. And no space for her invasion..

I would not let her infiltrate me like she does.. Tries..

Who does she think she is? Scraping away all that is old.. All that is precious to me.

How can she believe she is a new soft breeze when she is in fact my darkest nightmare, trying and trying to fill my life with her scent when I only want yours?

My walls… Will they ever see her?
I wish never to let her in my sacred chamber, even if it were a catacomb. That room belongs to you. Your body. Your desires. That bed is yours. That window. That lamp. And all the mismatched spotlights.

“wouldn’t it be wonderful, if there was an opening in my ceiling, and we could see the stars?”

You laughed at my foolishness that day.. In the dark..

“If there was an opening, we’d be looking up your brother’s room!”

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2 Responses to “Stars and Walls”

  1. Veronica Says:

    I like how you give that bit of comic relief at the end. I giggled guiltily because, in the longing it is so difficult to laugh…


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