Walking Away

I regret talking to you. I wish I had the courage to walk cleanly out of your life, back into the shadows of the night, back into the human tide, never to be seen or heard from again.

Our last night together, I didn’t sleep at all. I glanced at you, and went outside to the terrace, to gaze over the dusky Mexican cityscape, memories swirling around my mind. The truth is, I was happy to be leaving.

I enjoyed our time together, more than I can possibly say. I loved the feeling of your arms around me.  I loved the way you smiled when you looked at me. I loved sharing my world with you, and the way your world rushed out to meet me. But I’ve done this before. I know I make a better story than I do a reality. I know how disappointing it was to realise that we were't a story, we were just people. 

So I turned off your early morning alarms. I kissed you goodbye and slipped away, into the inky black night. And I wanted so badly to have the last word, to leave you with an illusion, untarnished by reality. I wanted to stay superhuman, a character rather than a person. But I heard my phone ding when I was safe in my bed at home, and I couldn’t help but reply. I got used to waking up to your messages. Addicted to knowing you were thinking about me from half a world away.

The truth is, there is no place for me in your real life. I know it even if you don’t. I’d rather be the one that got away, the amazing story from a long time ago…A nostalgic smile on a rainy day.

Maybe for now I can’t help but answer you with my trivial daily goings-on. I lost the chance to dramatically fade into the shadows of your mind. But if one day I am strong enough to disappear, I hope you understand.

Falling

I walked away. I fell hard on the road, and learned how to pick myself up again. I bandaged my scrapes with college ruled gauze, and learned how to keep on walking. Sunshine and moonshine, dirt and grass, I learned fast how be the love I needed. Hello, Goodbye, and everything between blurred together on blood-soaked pages, and once walking was just too much to bear, I crawled. Starving. Exhausted. Blood-soaked and ink stained. Striving on in the hope of discovering something. Anything. Driven by an immense, vast, force, towards… what? Darkness? The comfort of the unknown? Once upon a dusty dream, we ruined ourselves with smoke and alcohol and lust. Now we drag ourselves on. Because on is the only way to go. Because I’ve learned nothing if not how to say goodbye.

Lost II

I get lost easily. Not lost in terms of sense of direction, but lost in choosing a direction in the first place. I get lost in the colours of the trees, the curves of city streets, and the eyes of the people I meet and of the universes contained in their depths. I get lost in the past, lost in the future…lost in footsteps. Because in the end the direction doesn’t actually matter at all. The only solid line that exists is the road—any road, and your footsteps on it, each one lost and found, all jumbled up into one. Then you realize that sometimes the most beautiful view is whatever is disappearing into the distance behind you.

Sadism

He has a way with words. He sings himself into my life, and every time I dance away, they stab me like a knife. Then he binds the gashes with paper and ink, till once again, I think I’m complete.