The Poetry Marathon

(Author’s note: the sad thing is, this is pretty much my internal dialogue every morning)

Hey.

Hey… hey you…

Hey…

Hey!!

It’s time to get up

C’mon, you know it’s time

No, don’t pull on my arm

No, don’t pull me back to bed

I know the covers are warm

And I know the hedgehog is huge and soft

I know how it feels when you hug it

But it’s time

It’s time to wake up…

No… you… not five minutes… now

Now

Fine, fine, ten more minutes – no five more

Why did you change it to ten??

NO. Five Minutes.

Hey…

Hey…?

Wake up

Holy shit…
What a year you were
After 2016
I thought I had seen a terrible year
I was wrong

Some want to extract you from their history
To strike you from the record
I can’t say I haven’t thought of it
But still, you happened
And we have to live with that

So many you took
Not just lives
But jobs, freedoms, relationships
Time together, time missed
Time never to be spent again

Pressure pushed our flaws to the surface
Our festering wounds
Still aching
Were relit and reopened
Hoping that maybe it would be different this time

You didn’t end
You have yet to end
I can’t get out of 2020
Half a year apart, still
I feel your grip

I hear my boots
Scraping on the pavement
On an empty street
At 2 am

I see ribbons of light
Swirling around me
Ghosts of the cars
That went by

I feel prickles
On the back of my neck
Caused by the person
Following me

I breathe humidity
Thick in the air
I wonder if my companion
Can feel it too

I stop
My follower stands next to me
“Why are you here?”
“I was worried.”

I hate my face
Or my body
Or the whole thing
The whole image of me
I hate body length mirrors
Where I can see everything terrible
I can’t find a thing to like
Despite the protests of lovers and friends

Maybe the only thing I like
Are my eyes
Dark enough that no one is certain
Where my pupil is
They are more capable of expression
Than the rest of my face
Maybe my eyes
Are the one thing that pulls people in

Sunday morning
Wet asphalt
Lazy dog
Sleepy cat
Moisture in the air
Thick and heavy
Cloudy
No sunlight today
Nothing to hear
Everything is quiet

Books were safer than people anyway

That’s what I said to myself
As I slid another book onto the wall
Blocking the sunlight

Built shelves over the windows
So I wouldn’t see the outside world
And locked myself away

My only company
Would be fictional characters
Those that I would let in

I would eat breakfast with Holden
Make dinner with D’artagnan
And drink scotch with Morse

I am done with people
Locked away with my books
I am safe

I miss the way
Your fingers feel on my skin
How they slid over my back
And down to my waist
Ghosting over my shoulder
And sliding down my thigh
People don’t get to touch me like this
Not often
And the memory of it, makes me shiver

If I had gone with you…
I think our lives would be very different now
Sans stretch marks, C-section scars, and broken bones
But I wanted to make sure you knew
What you wanted

Maybe that was stupid
Maybe I was scared
Maybe you seemed
Just too uncertain
And I didn’t want uncertain

I’m sorry I didn’t try to
Do something more than just say
“Maybe you should know what you want
before we go any further in this.”
I thought I was right

And then I made a mistake
The possibility of you even being my friend
Suddenly was slipping away
And I was sobbing on the phone
Knowing I hurt you

Maybe I did it because
I am forever into self-sabotage
And I loved you more
Than I was willing to admit
I think I was just stupid

We patched things eventually
And then such bigger and crazier things happened
Actions and consequences that
Cut the both of us through our bones
And sooner or later we always came back together

Our lives went in separate directions
Things happened we can’t take back
But there are still nights I wonder
If I had held onto you
Where would we be now?

To my son,

I hope that you are happy
And that you are always able to know what that is
Stay out of trouble if you can
But go into it if you must
Know that I don’t care who you love
As long as they love you and take care of you
There will be times when life sucks
And sometimes it will suck so very much
Call me, call the family, call your friends…
So many people love you
At least one person will pick up the phone
Never be afraid of what you are
And learn how to master your skills
Eat the food, drink the wine, kiss the one you want (with permission)
And try to live your very best life

I wonder what you think of me
Writing out all these lines
Deep in the night

I am not crazy, though to write you have to be
And I am not masochistic
Although to write… well…

Turn my eyes in on my chest
Trying to dredge up something
That sounds at least good

The right word is on the tip of my tongue
But it’s gone in half a heartbeat
And good luck finding that again

Writer’s block is a terror to the system
And only release can ease the pressure
But is not always achieved

But is has to be
Otherwise you really will go mad
And then where will all my words be?