Wednesday, July 2, 2014

all the hardest, coldest people you meet, were once as soft as water - and that’s the tragedy of living.

I am always moving towards you.
On my bad days, I say to myself: “then you”. Sure, this now. But then you.I will keep tossing myself life lines. I will keep writing myself afloat until I don’t have to write a poem for every mile marker from here to California.You and I together is the most foolish thing I’ve ever hoped for. You and I apart is more foolish.When I can’t sleep at night, I dream up conversations with you. I never call. I never push. I try not to whine. I just write it all down.Sometimes I want to apologize for wanting you out loud, like too many people know the reasons I am going to have laugh lines.Sometimes instead of distanced pillow talk, I want to curl up with the phone and read you poetry.
You say, “honey, how was your day?”
And I say, “today I wrote another poem
about your coffee cup mouth
and all the ways you still keep me up at night.”
I hear a sigh in your smile.
You make a sound that reminds me of
fighting with my bags at the airport;
but you’re still too far away.

Instead, we just talk about it.
Trista Mateer