I had my heart broken, once.

Today I went with Sarah and Amber and watched the movie, Fur: An Imaginary Portrait of Diane Arbus . Came home made a drink I am sure it contained Malibu Rum. I started cleaning out my garage, as if cleaning my garage is going to help me make the decisions I need to. I listened to the radio and listened to all the cheesy love songs that came across and ate up every word, nostalgic now in thought. Every word that came across, every ounce of longing, loss and fond reminiscing took me to the ground and left me feeling naked. It was just that sort of day and so I know the impact of you and what is not just happened to hit me like that. So much stuff, none yours but such semblance they hold to that fact that I carry things around with me far too long. In my piles of things I have a beautiful easel and in my dramatic haze I do not feel like painting anymore and it just seems the sort of thing that would be difficult to get rid of if I had to just up and leave. I want to give it to you, I hope you'll take it. I went outside I laid in the grass, I let the sun melt into me and I remembered because it is just something I am good at, only things come through me and out of me slightly different as if put into some fairytale filter before re-entering the world, so forgive me. Everything that happened after us is a different story but it was the sort of day where I remembered before the after. I know it is hard for some people to understand so if you are some people please read on with your own made up characters. As this really is a culmination of a past and different pictures of love. With that easel, I remember you coming and sitting with me while I painted, I was off in my world, on the verge of tears, knowing I wouldn't loose myself because even if we weren't talking I felt you sitting there protecting me. I really believed when you told me you were there for me so much so that I maybe didn't see I was taking too much and building you up too high. I didn't see, I just thought…I thought for certain I knew. All my stuff never seemed to bother you. Or at least you never said so. I've memorized your voice as you told me I was like your father, your mother, that you loved me in all ways. I can honestly say that you touched every single chord in me and I ended up sounding like a silly little love song. I have the softest thoughts of you, always so dream-like and surreal they beg to be overlooked they usually throw forth how quickly you've disappeared and all that has come to light. They present reality, all the while, I am kicking and screaming defending what was real to me even if what was real was only something I felt, it was to me that most real thing I had ever felt. How I long to have someone come and try to knock me down now, just for the fight in me, the need to scream bull-shit! Inside, the vigor and chaos, to find some innocence in me today, seem idiotic. I would break the poor sap, I would make sure that I was not making their intention up. I know I want no one now, I know because it is not in me to wear defenses so obviously. I instead give people the benefit of the doubt so I know right now I need only myself but like I said it was the sort of day for these sort of feelings, so I just happened to be feeling the way I was. With us there was no grand parade, no decorated list of events to attend but there were so many small moments that are bigger than anything that came before. One day we lay in bed, looked out my bedroom window, watched the day turn to night. We took the cushions off the couch made hot chocolate and watch movies and talked about nothing about everything. I really needed you right then and you really needed me right then, that time was ours. In this entire world we had some moment reserved solely for us. It was one of the best times in my life. I am not mourning the loss of it. I really don't even know how it happened and maybe one day it will all be forgotten, all I am doing is remembering in a good light how much you once meant to me. I suppose to anyone else reading this they would imagine as I write this I wear a wounded mask, over saturated in make-believe, well that may just be the case but today is just one of those days that the past sneaks in a leaves you with a slight smile. Of course, I could find someone else to share dinner with and someone else to daydream about I am sure, but will I feel so openly for them, shield them the way I did you? Laying on you it just felt like love to me, there isn't another way to explain it, there are no words with heavy enough weight. Something in the air, in my soul felt that nothing else mattered. I thought of how you came into my life as a surpise and our funny coincidences and detailed conversations, as I learned from you I fell in love with you, as I fell I wanted to learn more. You have a smile, a secret smile, as innocent and good as a child, that is the smile I loved the most and it always seemed to only come through when it was the two of us alone. I thought of how my fingertips felt drawing the invisible story of us over you chest, I thought of how when you slept I would say little prayers for you and kiss you so quietly so not to wake you but you would pull me close it was as if you pulled the energy from me and into you and I could just sleep there surrendered to it. And while resting somewhere in the crevice between your arm and ribs I could feel the warmth in my heart cover the two of us.

I ask myself what of all of this will matter? I know I am okay with it all because I could so freely express this now without longing. I keep it safe in the past. The memory is a muse best kept in the distance. I don't have a plan of attack, to return to where I struggled to leave but I guess it was just that sort of day, and I think it is okay to think of an experience gone not as a loss but as a gift, because that is all our time with another is, it is a gift.

rough spots

It is dust, dry-goodbye that has kept me alive and now I’m closer to the earth than when my head was in the clouds and now I’m not aloud -not aloud back into who I was. Once.

Now its time to watch my feet step right/left/right and get up out of the dunces chair watch my lungs inhale in/out I steal the air.

I was always taught not to take up too much room.

Depression leaves everyone; eventually…it left me with a personality crisis.

I was once a better friend. A better lover. So much more together. Falling apart, a Los Angeles mudslide, above me was worse I know.

I have defended you many times. In all the “fuck the world” proclamations I have again and again said “oh, c’mon now yes, there are shit-heads but shit-heads are going through shit too.”

A few years ago you stole my identity until. Later you stole my car. You sold death to a friend and stole her to.

Don’t worry, I’m over it.