Friday, March 29, 2013

Unnamed #3

Do you remember the fragrance from the Frangipani behind our room
Told us stories of different lands that we all knew never existed?
Remember how we sneaked in dried nuts and put them under our pillows
To be strictly had, in the dark, during those insane story telling sessions?

I remember them like I would a favourite jigsaw puzzle from those days
Pieces you know will eventually come together but not right away
I remember some songs, some funny games, and fights we had over nothing
And how it all ended without a warning and vanished behind the doors

Occasionally, I would read these novels that had the two of us in the middle
They were us, with different faces, different names and different stories
But I would ride through the story like a desperate and wounded horse
That had to reach before it fell on an unknown plot and bled to death

Your best friend left the country and you cried because she didn’t ask you once
My lover walked out and I burnt all his letters that we knew were seriously lacking
Under my bed, rotted a stuffed bear that my second lover gave for a birthday
You poked fun at me, called me a child and ran out of the room with your pigtails

You make me smile even without intention and from that overwhelming distance
You and I no longer ask, call, speak, wish, love, hate, cry, laugh, smile or argue
Lives were parted, with a wide-toothed comb, possibly to untangle the rough edges
Causing deep lines, differences, lack of interest and general disregard for each other

We turn defiant, annoyed, and annoying, and let our egos take over as puppeteers
You walk in the snow, hurt your neck, shiver in the cold, go months without money
I burn in the sun, hurt my neck, reel under the heat and go months without money
It’s ironic, isn’t it, how in a way we live identical lives without even asking for it?

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