Work Text:
it’s stupid, isn’t it?
how sometimes I still remember you
when stale bread crumbles in my mouth
unrelenting.
sticking to my teeth like words lost in translation
because you knew that I loved you
but I was never any good at actually saying it.
i still see you in the cracks of the sidewalk
where flowers used to grow under your sunlight
pale petals plated in gold
and backs strong as iron
albeit a little crooked
as they stagger high on tiptoe
desperate to reach you
feeding off your presence until their bellies
were full with life and love
aching for your praise.
almost sounds familiar.
i still see you in the decaying grass
which mourns to feel your stride over its blades
a palette of greys and browns begging
to be swept away like old ashes on hardwood,
because Brooklyn is mourning for its sons taken too early
but I know you never liked to entertain pity parties.
so I’m walking through town ignoring the sounds of mothers tearing through letters
and I’m ignoring the cries of dames missing their sweethearts
and sweetheart I’m trying to ignore the way you used to turn concrete into gold with no more than the soles of your dirty shoes
because your footsteps always fell easy in your stride
and I remember following them like it was the only thing I knew how to do,
and that’s stupid, isn’t it?
you can’t turn ashe into diamond
and of course the wind doesn’t cry your name
and you lay under the ground, not over it
and the dead can’t speak
can’t hear
can’t see
but darling if they could
i'd want them all to know
the way sunlight rolled off your back the mornings you could afford to sleep in.
i’d want them all to know the way your blunt fingernails felt pressed into my bones,
writing love notes of late nights spent together the deeper your nails sunk,
i'd want them all to know that I loved you the way fresh soil
loves newly planted seedlings
because all I wanted was to watch you grow
and I hope
that out of everything I gave you,
above the headaches
and frustration
and unrelenting test of patience
that I also gave you enough support to feel important,
because darling
you are the fire in my pulse
and the breath in my lungs
and this is so damn stupid, isn’t it?
how my existence feels wrong
without you here.
it’s stupid, isn’t it,
the way I feel you when snow melts against the sidewalk
sunlight bleeding into the veins of the city
the first glimpses of Spring visceral and wrong
because it’s warm and soft and terrible
and my body is still cold without you pressed against it.
winter stretches far into April
because the last letter you sent me was in December
and sunshine means nothing to me
if it doesn’t come from you.
there are no empty pages in my sketchbook
and my pencils are sharpened into short nubs
because the world deserves to remember you as the man
who wore tired smiles
like medals plated in gold
not as the broken soldier
scrambling to escape a barrage of bullets
Our Father's fast on his tongue
because he may not believe in God
but anyone does the moments before it’s their time to go.
sometimes I still see you in the moments before a car crash
because you’re a thousand miles away
but I can still feel the shrapnel in your veins
everytime grenades or landmines splinter into the skies
the carnage of metal tearing through your lovely bones
because you were built for love
not war
and it’s stupid, isn’t it?
because that’s exactly where you are.
and our bed is empty
and my doorstep lonely
and I’m still waiting on your letter
so will you just hurry up and send me something, you jerk
because the seconds are bleeding out into lifetimes
and how could you ever expect me to survive without you?
loneliness unfurls in my bones
like viruses spreading infections through my lungs
'cause darling if the pneumonia won’t kill me
this heartache just might.
it’s stupid, isn’t it,
the way I miss wearing your fingerprints
underneath my sleeve,
parading them like trophies that no one knew existed
because it was just another secret we kept between ourselves
as if we didn’t have enough already.
i miss the way remnants of your touch
lingered underneath the collar of my shirt
the way your lips seared my flesh like burn marks
yet remained invisible outside of our sacred space
or how your fingers felt curled
around my aching wrists
when electricity trailed up your spine
and God, it hurts how much I miss that.
i miss the way the smell of your favorite cigarettes
would linger in between the seams of my clothes,
sink deep into my pores
and cling to my flesh
and bury into the very marrow of my bones
like it belonged there.
like I was yours.
exhaling your carbon signature down my throat
and into my veins
every time those cherry lips found solace against my own
and darling I remember telling you
how much I hated the smell of those damn cigarettes
and yet I can’t help but curl my toes
and bat my lashes
when that sweet scent drifts ashore
into my lonely harbors.
don’t laugh
when I tell you
that I miss the bitter taste of your breath,
how sweet words spilled from your lips and dissipated like hot smoke
as we sat on the fire escape,
don’t laugh
when I tell you
that I miss the way you pressed kisses against my freckles
and connected them like constellations
with the tip of your tongue,
it was stupid
how you said you saw the universe in the pale hue of my eyes,
and it was stupid
how every time new bruises blossomed across my arms and legs
you said new galaxies were born far away,
and it was so damn stupid
because you are the stars and the moon and the sun
whereas I am no more than mere dust in this lonely universe
but damn it
i wear that badge with pride.
it’s been days
and the letter still sits untouched on our kitchen table
gathering dust and dirty looks.
i refuse to believe anyone that tells me you’re gone
because I still feel your breath in my lungs
and I still feel my blood in your veins
and there is life surging far away in the ugly trenches of Europe
where I’m certain you’re still fighting,
and no letter will ever tell me otherwise
because not all soldiers come marching home
but darling you promised you would
and that’s all the reassurance I need.
so I still see you in the dip of the mattress
where your body used to rest
i still see you in the curling paint of our apartment
that only got worse after you left
i still see you in the languid clouds
that hang heavy and full in the sky
and it’s stupid, isn’t it?
because everything reminds me of you
but that was always the case even before you left.