Tuesday, January 26, 2016


Here, I'm here. I'm not sure who you are, but you're whoever you need to be to read this.

I have a lot of things I'm working through, a lot of ideas. But one of the biggest right now is you. I get that you've always been lurking in the background of everything we've been doing. Not we-we. At least, not that I know, but they say you are behind it all. Not that you, the other you. The big You, who's not anyone else to be but you, right here, or right there.

Well, I'm not sure where you are, to be honest. Sometimes I see you through this screen. Sometimes I hear you sitting there as I say in my head what I want to write on this page that's not a page. Sometimes when I am writing to you on a page that is a page, I get distracted by all the things. But just trying to say that right and making all those mistakes only you and I just saw, and you being here with me right now making these mistakes with me, just the two of us and no one else but everyone else who knows and feels they are not part of me and you, but neither of us knows which is me and which is you... you catch me up and tell me that you know what I mean, I get so distracted by all the things. When, you and I both know, I just want to tell you how much I love you.

I have tried so many times to tell you I love you, but every time it feels like you're not there.
Only, only lately, I have started to not care. I love you and say it when I see you, behind the sun, in the morning, clouds like fire and embers and burning earth. I see you near the moon, ice spire sharp light cutting this night as the halo around her too.
You are just beyond there, and while it feels like a smile,
I cannot tell if it's mine or yours. Ours.

You know who I'm talking to, don't you?
You know what she's trying to say, right?
You want her to say what you want her to say.
You always let us say what we say, though, in the end,
Isn't that right?

When do I stop and you begin? When do you start writing through me and get done with me,
so that maybe it can just get back to us figuring out who we are and what we did,
so that maybe we can not go through all that over again?

I love you so much it hurts me, and I cannot get rid of you or find out what you are and if you were ever real in me or just my own particular illusion of you,
because it feels so real and it hurts me when I know you're listening to me and you're just along for the ride because I cannot get off this one
the one joke that on this ride
you get off where you get on

and she says that's right

and she says that's good

and I know that's solid and real

and I know that's the only time I've known how to reach you

and I never know if it's just you or her or them or us

1 comment:

Is this wise?
Is this yours?
Is this love?

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