What is up with me these days.
1. I have lost all my poetry. Even being in love didn't bring back the softness that I used to have, I put my arm inside a deep well looking for words but come up with nothing but salt in my paper cuts. I don't know if that is supposed to be a metaphor.
11. I am reading Conrad and I am surprised that I am enjoying it. A is coming to see me next week. I am trying to shut my mind out to everything else. I am trying to convince myself that the future is not real.
3. My summer love affair is over, but the want still sits heavy on my tongue.
6. I am trying to hold on to what made me want my lover at all, but I forget the shape of his mouth, and most of what he said to me. I am trying to remember. I am trying to remember because this love is the city's last gift to me and inspite of all the rage he keeps in his fingers he is the most gentle man I have known.
7. My lover gave me everything he could, apologized for what he couldn't. I am trying to forgive his kindness. I am trying to understand how to remember a lover when the love doesn't hurt anymore.
7. I am trying to remember the shape of his fingers in my mouth but it doesn't feel real. Only the memory of longing remains.
