falling_rain12's Xanga Site

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

the yellow smoke that presses up
against the window panes

it completely obscures
the window panes

curling up
it stretches flat
covering wide around
and everything's hazy

i cannot see
beyond my eyes
as it seeps through

it licks away
the remnants of my evening
lapping slowly away
until it disappears
under its sand-papery tongue

as I lay there
indecisive

making decisions
a minute could reverse
going up the stairs
down the stairs
(i cannot move sideways
i cannot jump over
for there is no other movement for me
to go to
and no place to come from)

but that is not it
at all
that is nothing like I meant

for what else is there

i should have been nothing but
stuffed shirts
full of straw

my careful feet
making my way in the dark

clinging on
to the lagging rope
inevitably waiting for my fall...

...but that is not what I meant
at all

not it,
not at all.

Friday, May 02, 2008

When he turns around, he sees her sitting on his bed. He hadn't heard her come in. Nor had he heard the usual groaning of his bed springs.
She looks up at him a little curiously, head tilted. Her hands are between her legs, palms pressing down on the bed. She always sat like a boy.
"You've forgotten me," she remarks non-chalantly. It's not a question. She has this crooked little smile on her face that reminds of him of so long ago.
"Have I?" He tries stalling for time, to come up with an appropriate response, but doesn't defend himself.
She chuckles a little at his reply, and continues to stare at him for a while, still smiling. He feels a little uncomfortable and starts to fidget, before she asks, "How are you?"
"Fine."
"Yes, I can see that." She sounds a little wistful, and he decides to take his chance.
"I've missed you," he tells her sincerely.
"No." She pauses, thinking. "You miss me now that I'm here," she allows.
"Life's been busy, here."
"I know." She looks down at her hands, and whispers, "I miss you, too." She looks him in the eye. "I've missed you all this time."
"I--"
"Shhh. It's okay. Your water, it's ready." She nods towards the microwave, where he had been heating it. "Jello?" She smiles knowingly.
He laughs. "How do you know me so well?"
She doesn't respond back, and simply continues to smile. It was a stupid question. He knows that. And she knows that he knows the answer.
"Would you like me to make it?"
"No, it's fine. It'd be wrong for me to expect you to. You're my guest."
She laughs. He feels her eyes on him as he turns to take the bowl out, rips open the little package and pours the powder in. He separates and mushes all the clumps, remembering how frustrated she was last time when she had been the one to mix it, furiously mashing the back of the fork up against the plastic sides of the bowl. Remembering how she had given him the fork "to lick."
He had forgotten her. He didn't think it was possible. Now that she had visited him again, it wouldn't be possible anymore. He places the bowl inside the freezer, and asked, "Do you want some, when it's done?"
He shuts the freezer door and turns.
She isn't there anymore.

Tuesday, April 01, 2008

In time, you will forget her. She'll slowly slink away from your memory, leaving traces of herself that she will not be able to get rid of. The indention her head made on the pillow, the perfume she always wore, the scuffing on the wooden floor, they all remain, but they will slowly fade away.
It doesn't seem possible now, when she occupies at least every corner of your thoughts, and you swear that that girl up ahead, the one so desperately far away, is her, and when you sprint up to her and tap her on the shoulder, that face isn't hers, and instead is unfamiliar and bewildered.
You can vehemently declare that you will always feel the same, the same way, the same intensity, everything, but, trust me, just because you say so doesn't mean anything.
Your words are sweet. Endearing. That silver tongue of yours could enchant her way back into your arms, if you could reach her. But since you can't, they won't last. Maybe if you still saw her, still talked to her on a regular basis, things would be different, but she's broken off all methods of contact for a reason.
She'll become a distant memory, and you'll only think of her occasionally. You might even forget her name.
Do you understand what I'm saying? It won't last. It can't last. Forget what the fairy tales tell you--of this one thing, I am absolutely sure.