I have to write this down or it never happened, It has to have occurred, because if it did not then I never did
What are you doing? You can do this.
What do I think? I’m sleeping on a couch,
When I should be in a bed. The bed down the hall;
Sharing space with the person I never had to compete with.
Me and you were never a battle – You took me in;
Uncovered me and all the things hidden
beneath my unnaturally calm surface.
I know battles, with expertise in bloody confrontations. I know the look on the checkout girl’s face when she sees a little bit of him in the way I say, “You’re smile is contagious.” Or the glossy eyed stare of the estranged divorcee when my deep gaze into her says she matters triggers the memory of how he used to actually care; I watch her go down the long road to lost where she wound up wondering how much she still does. I get these things. I might not always be able to voice them, but a look into my eyes says it, it’s says everything, but no one is reading, no one is drinking.
This is not home. No matter how much I’d like it to be. My only home is me. I’ll have beds that are comfortable, people I’ll love to lay with, but home will never be any of those. It will only ever be me. And it’s hard saying that seeing the way we’re all so perfect in this moment. Everyone has a good laugh now and again, but I’m always having a good one – I don’t want to laugh about this. If only we all could be comfortable in our own skin for long enough – No it’s not enough to fit in the skin, the labyrinth is where it all begins. I could tell you from the beginning I knew we’d have a hard time settling in.
I know this has been so long, it’s like the only thing in recent history that we’ve known; I’ve watched you die before and decompose upon history’s bones. This will cut so deep, you will wonder where it’s going.