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 Nov 2012 Conor Wilson
Keith Ren
your form
was made
for my eyes

your memory
for my mind

      the fruit will never rot

      
                             it will only disappear
 Nov 2012 Conor Wilson
-D
alone--
 Nov 2012 Conor Wilson
-D
a tear in a ship's sail--
the last leaf on a tree that has become rotten--
11:59 p.m. on the last day of the year--
the last pill in the bottle--

it is all a feeling of hopelessness--
[why did we ever think differently]
but also a foreboding feeling of peace--
[should I, can I start over?]
and we are terrified by the idea that we
could begin again.

because it will be new,
and it will be different,
and that scares us like the first circle of hell--
-
because all we have ever known
is the pain that comes with loving people
when they do not, cannot love us as much in return--
-
because we are comforted by pain,
for it has always been with us,
and we fear what life would be like if we were ever whole--

so what would it feel like
to start over,
alone--?

to let the tear rip us in half in the middle of the ocean (alone)--
to let the leaf fall, and the tree decompose (alone)--
to watch the sun set on the old year and the sun rise on the new year (alone)--
and to take the last pill, and see what happens next--
in our emptiness?
-
alone does not become me,
but it will make Us strong.
I do not know why you came,
but I hated to watch you partially leave,

now get the hell out.
I'm drumming my fingers
on the outside of the car.
Keep your hands busy, Charlie.
Don't let them wander across
the space between your seat and hers.

You've got this smile
poised on your lips
like a mousetrap.
Tense with hesitation
and a million neurons
firing thoughts through your head
that I'll never get to know.

Light up that cigarette, Charlie.
Keep those hands busy.
Let your eyes wander.
from the mind of an anxious depressive

from the time i, as a little girl,
dressed up like a princess
[tiara and all,
pouffy, pink dress and all]
listened to my mother tell me
a fairy tale
of a woman who finds
her prince charming,
and is rescued by him,
and lives happily, happily ever after
in a magnificent palace by the sea…
and i, as a brooding teenager,
insecure and reclusive,
observed a
[now viewed as ridiculous]
romantic film
about a woman who finds her
one true Love,
and he rescues her,
and they live happily, happily ever after
in a beautiful three-bedroom home
where they raise two,
perfect children…
and i, as a young woman,
fully aware and adept,
recognizing the world for what it is
as *i
see it,
seeing love dismantle time,
and time again....

i am fully aware that nothing can possibly last for a happily ever after.

the doubt is consuming,
the wall is well-built and
unyielding.
my heart remains too crippled
to possibly endure the grief that
falling in Love elicits.

but,
Love finds you even if you have
given up the notion of it.
it gallops in on its white horse.
has bright blue eyes.
sparks a smile that can illuminate
my somber heart.
has no regard for my opposition to itself.
is selfish and greedy and exhausting.

it is utterly impossible to avoid
being seduced
into the black hole
from which i will never leave
precisely the same.
from which i will surrender
a piece of myself
essential to my functioning.

Love sweeps in like a tornado
[destroying everything in its path]
and so the five stages of falling in Love,
and falling apart,
begin.

denial.
i feign disinterest.
i pretend as if he doesn’t
engross my thoughts
as if my heart doesn’t encroach upon my stomach
when he enters the room.
if asked by a friend,
“why does your face turn bright red
when he dares to utter your name?”
i pretend like she is the insane one
[when i am the one denying my heart.]

anger.
i become enraged.
Love has taken control.
the knowledge that i let Love
dismantle the wall,
that i have spent years building,
and reinforcing,
[brick by brick, piece by piece]
infuriates me.
i let him gradually demolish it.
and now i am powerless and susceptible,
and now he has me by the heartstrings.
he holds me in his greedy palms.

bargaining.
i avoid the fact that i am falling,
yes, i am falling.
oh, so deeply for him.
i watch myself fall from such great heights
straight into the ground
crashing through to the
center of
the world.
i even pray to God,
the one i'm not even sure i believe in.
i tell Him that i would do anything,
anything just to take back control.
to have two firm hands on the wheel.
to be the driver
instead of the passenger.

depression.
i cannot bring myself
to shove off the covers.
to crawl out of bed.
i am miserable and helpless and
he is all i can think about.
he is my first thought
when i am awake.
my last when my mind
finally tires of him,
and i fall into a
fitful night of sleep.
yet, i do not tell him any of this.
he wonders why i am so distant,
so removed from him.
what he does not know is that
he carries part of myself with him
wherever he goes.

acceptance.
when my nerves have finally worn themselves down,
when my heart has reached an understanding with my mind,
when Love does not appear as something to be grieved,
that is when i fall in Love.

never once have i
accepted Love from a man,
Love that could alter
my melancholy mind,
nor have i trusted a man with my heart.
[although i have been forced by Love itself to relinquish it.]

i have been obstinate and headstrong
and refused to give all of myself
in fear of losing myself.
but maybe one day, i will be
rescued from myself.
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