Delicately, his calloused fingers traced slow, haphazard patterns across my collarbones,
Lamenting how his have never looked the same since his fall,
And true, how when you even scarcely glanced at his bare chest, you saw that
The bones on the left never mended and the scars from his surgery barely faded.
His was broken and mine was whole.
My skin, he called soft and freckled and fair,
While his was tanned and rough and scarred,
But the similarity was in our untamable souls and the untamable curls of our hair,
Still, I loved the contrast, the contests, the context, the connection,
We were two pieces, together a whole.
Last night, I lay tracing haphazard patterns across my chest with calloused fingertips,
My skin felt just as soft, though perhaps wan from winter’s unceasing embrace,
I noted that my collarbones, symmetrical, still held their shape,
But other parts of me have never been the same since my fall,
My heart was broken, still beating, a hole.
We stumbled outside, tiptoeing through gleaming green glass Heineken shards that lay sinisterly strewn across our path, thirsting for a taste of blood from my sandaled feet. The whole city was alight - teeming with music, romance and sin. I slipped my jacket on, though the night air was a warm caress on my bare shoulders and back…
I don’t remember if the stars were out. The city shone bright enough to eclipse lust, mistakes, bruises and the coke deals being settled in the back of the grungy funk bar where I left one of my best friends after a triple vodka-water or two too many. I guess… it made little difference if the stars were out.
His pace slowed and he lit up another Lucky Strike, then encircled my shoulders with a lanky arm and with an exhale, encircled me yet again with a cloud of purple-grey fog.
A skinny Australian James Dean… only softer… sweeter.
“So, this is Vienna?” I mused. I was so overcome by its charm, by his charm, that I was shrouded from reality. I do believe that I walked into a dream, or at least a stupor, and my actions were free from consequences until I woke up on a train out of there with the wrong ticket in my pocket and a euro deficit rivaling that of the equally doomed institution issuing that currency.
We arrived at the hostel… and part of me wishes that the story ended there… or that the vodka would let me forget. He snored all night, but woke up chipper, his eyes mischievously green with a look telling me that I had ensnared him. He was addicted. My eyes will do that. At least… so I’m told. All was hazy and comfortable until he woke up to his most serious addiction. Just cussing.
Sundays are not a good day to wake up to an empty pack of cigarettes. At least… not a Sunday in Vienna.
After all, Sunday is the holy day. Repent. Repent. Repent. Rinse & Repeat.
curtismutter replied to your audio post: First attempt at legitimate spoken word. The…
Hey, you’ve got guts, kid. All great pieces of emotion require guts, and this is great. You paint a vivid portrait of a bitter-sweet romance gone bitter, and tell the story in an articulate and interesting way. Kudos! P.S -Is that an echo I hear!?
Thanks Curt. I’m very new to this manifestation of the poetic art and feel like I have a ways to go yet. Appreciate the positive feedback :)
And yes… it is indeed. I think of you every time I attempt any effects on my vocals! Funny thing is that it is actually the default female vocal track setting on Garageband haha. I had an even more prominent echo before, which sounded cool, but made the words difficult to follow. Figured this was a happy medium. I knew you’d notice.
I remember the rustle of your smile,
I can still hear the smoothness of your hair
As you laughed that generosity.
I feel your beauty that sang
I can still hum your SLR mask
Whose products wore your perspective.
I see your trembling mezzo-soprano
Your eyes still strolling through my atmosphere
As your footsteps along the sea close.
In all honesty, over time your memory fades.
My senses confounded by grief.
The memories fade.
The Grief is insatiable.
It strangles my psyche with spiraling thoughts of
How I could have
Like you did for me.
Now all I can feel is your absence.
Because that’s all that’s left.