I don’t know your name.
Not for any romantic reason, either. It’s just that I have a terrible memory for names, and besides, the music was so loud that I could barely hear you telling me what it was.
So forgive me for not addressing this letter to you personally. I really don’t think you can take offence, seeing as you’re not actually going to read it. And if you did read it, your English (while still being about fifty times better than my Italian) would probably not allow you to understand much of it anyway.
Besides, I don’t expect you can remember my name, either.
I could really have saved a lot of time by writing Dear X, or Dear Pretty Riviera Spectre, but never mind.
I suspect that if this letter gets posted, it will look even colder and paler next to the intensity and passion in some of the others than it does here all by itself on my screen. But I can’t help that.
It also occurs to me that none of this is really a big deal anyway. And not worth writing poems over. But I can’t help overreacting to things either. And the poem is here – although I hardly remember writing it now, and I’m not really sure where on earth it came from – so I feel I might as well let it go where it wants to go. Which, for some reason, seems to be here.
So here you go:
Hang me up like a star
tripping from the spiderweb sky, and
humdrum swaying from side to side.
It’s not that I don’t like you,
or that your eyes and your skin
aren’t soft enough, or look
as though they can’t bear touching.
Float me out to sea –
just hear me out –
float me over tonguing flashfire froth
and black malady,
and don’t let me hunger
the rock-slime up again
or ever come back at all.
It’s not that I don’t like you –
if I could just find
a way to say it –
it’s not anything,
but I can never seem to help
getting absorbed
into the dark.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
To A
Dear A,
You can’t get closer than this, I thought, stirring my coffee and smiling. Without looking up, I knew you’d be sitting there with that look in your brown eyes. Serious, concerned, intense, frightened. You were just a boy, just a nervous little boy. And I didn’t care. It doesn’t matter who we are, or when we are, or where. All that matters is doing the right thing with the time that is given to us. We joked around, and I remember envying myself. And all the girls you’d meet in the future, and the girls of your past. To have a part of your life, to be close to you, that’s all that’s important. The necessity for anything more is stupid. Why would you want more than just one instant of perfection? If everything is perfect always, how could you relax? You’d always live in fear of a collapse. Of the end of things. Take each minute as it comes, take risks, forget to care. That’s what you taught me. And it’s a lesson I intend to remember. Memory’s a funny thing. Six weeks forward from that day, six weeks forward from realising that I, you, we were on the brink of something, and I still am there, still stuck in Starbucks with a cup of coffee and a poem on a piece of folded paper that you’d just handed to me. It’s a beautiful poem. And it’s one I intend to keep. Maybe when I’m brave enough I’ll stick it up onto my wall, make a collection of all the precious things people have given me; which reminds me, I haven’t worn the necklace my first boyfriend bought me since the day we split up. Funny how that sort of thing happens. But that’s a shame, because it is a beautiful necklace. Who cares that the beads are made of glass? It’s real, artisan-crafted glass, from Venice. But even that isn’t why it’s precious. I like trophies, because I like to remember people by the things they gave, which is why part of me finds it annoying that the second and third boys I went out with never gave me anything tangible to keep. But then again, it’s hardly surprising. They didn’t really affect my life in the same way. Alec did because he was the First Boyfriend, and you did because well, you were The First, in the full, overblown dramatic sense of that phrase. And I’m glad it was you; I wouldn’t have had it any other way. You were so close to being perfect that it almost hurt every time I was with you. [censor'd?]And I know if you ever read this (which you won’t) you’d find the innuendo in that and laugh. [end censor]I mostly remember you laughing. You were always laughing about something or other. You were playful, childish, wonderful. In all my life I have never known anyone like you, and yet... you are nothing special! How does that work? I don’t understand how you can be someone so utterly perfect, utterly amazing, and yet be pretty **** ordinary. I remember your intensity though. You are a healer. You made me feel so much safer with you than with anyone. That’s why I knew we were right together. And even though it was only for a very, very short space of time, you made sense. We made sense. The ‘us’ that we had was important to me. I don’t care that it lasted hardly any time at all. You will come back to me, as a friend, and I look forward to it. And maybe one day, if (as people have said and I am ignoring) you come back to me as a lover, it will be wonderful. Life is cyclical. It has a funny way of tying up loose ends. Maybe we’ll turn out to be a loose end that needs tying up. Maybe we could spend the rest of our lives together. Maybe, somewhere out there in a strange loop of time, we will. I won’t hold my breath, because you’ve taught me how to live, and I am **** well going to. I look forward to the rest of my life.
Much Love,
C x
You can’t get closer than this, I thought, stirring my coffee and smiling. Without looking up, I knew you’d be sitting there with that look in your brown eyes. Serious, concerned, intense, frightened. You were just a boy, just a nervous little boy. And I didn’t care. It doesn’t matter who we are, or when we are, or where. All that matters is doing the right thing with the time that is given to us. We joked around, and I remember envying myself. And all the girls you’d meet in the future, and the girls of your past. To have a part of your life, to be close to you, that’s all that’s important. The necessity for anything more is stupid. Why would you want more than just one instant of perfection? If everything is perfect always, how could you relax? You’d always live in fear of a collapse. Of the end of things. Take each minute as it comes, take risks, forget to care. That’s what you taught me. And it’s a lesson I intend to remember. Memory’s a funny thing. Six weeks forward from that day, six weeks forward from realising that I, you, we were on the brink of something, and I still am there, still stuck in Starbucks with a cup of coffee and a poem on a piece of folded paper that you’d just handed to me. It’s a beautiful poem. And it’s one I intend to keep. Maybe when I’m brave enough I’ll stick it up onto my wall, make a collection of all the precious things people have given me; which reminds me, I haven’t worn the necklace my first boyfriend bought me since the day we split up. Funny how that sort of thing happens. But that’s a shame, because it is a beautiful necklace. Who cares that the beads are made of glass? It’s real, artisan-crafted glass, from Venice. But even that isn’t why it’s precious. I like trophies, because I like to remember people by the things they gave, which is why part of me finds it annoying that the second and third boys I went out with never gave me anything tangible to keep. But then again, it’s hardly surprising. They didn’t really affect my life in the same way. Alec did because he was the First Boyfriend, and you did because well, you were The First, in the full, overblown dramatic sense of that phrase. And I’m glad it was you; I wouldn’t have had it any other way. You were so close to being perfect that it almost hurt every time I was with you. [censor'd?]And I know if you ever read this (which you won’t) you’d find the innuendo in that and laugh. [end censor]I mostly remember you laughing. You were always laughing about something or other. You were playful, childish, wonderful. In all my life I have never known anyone like you, and yet... you are nothing special! How does that work? I don’t understand how you can be someone so utterly perfect, utterly amazing, and yet be pretty **** ordinary. I remember your intensity though. You are a healer. You made me feel so much safer with you than with anyone. That’s why I knew we were right together. And even though it was only for a very, very short space of time, you made sense. We made sense. The ‘us’ that we had was important to me. I don’t care that it lasted hardly any time at all. You will come back to me, as a friend, and I look forward to it. And maybe one day, if (as people have said and I am ignoring) you come back to me as a lover, it will be wonderful. Life is cyclical. It has a funny way of tying up loose ends. Maybe we’ll turn out to be a loose end that needs tying up. Maybe we could spend the rest of our lives together. Maybe, somewhere out there in a strange loop of time, we will. I won’t hold my breath, because you’ve taught me how to live, and I am **** well going to. I look forward to the rest of my life.
Much Love,
C x
Friday, August 8, 2008
To that that one special guy
To that one special guy-
I still love you. Lord knows I've tried to deny it, I tell myself almost every morning that it's all over. That I look at you and don't feel anything anymore. But then we joke and you look at me with that smile, and I know that I'm right back where I started. My heart pounds when I get close to you, when I "accidentally" brush up against you. One thing I've learned through the last few years that I've known you and loved you is that I'm a very jealous person. Sometimes I think you treat me different than the other girls, and it makes me feel special. But then I see you being the same with some other girl that you are with me, and I resent her. I've always wanted you just for me, to be my boy. It's so hard for me because I know you'll never feel the same way about me that I do about you. I never want to lose our friendship, it's become one of the most treasured things in my life. It's just sometimes I still wish that you'd look at me the way I look at you. That you'd think of me of more than just another friend, that I'd have some sort of special place in your heart. I know you've probably seen me do some pretty stupid stuff, but that's what happens when you start running out of ways to get closer to someone you're already incredibly close to. I just think that if I could get a little closer you'd see me in a different light. You'd see me as someone you could trust and someone you could give all your love to. You're without a doubt the most amazing person I've ever met in my life. You're funny and talented and you have a great moral character. You know when to be silly and when to be serious, you really know who you are and what you believe in. That's something I've always admired about you, you really seem to know who you are, and it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks of you. Then I told you how I felt, through a letter, like now. Your reaction was surprising at best. You didn't even acknowledge it, but you were visibly uncomfortable. You never said a word, one way or the other. Then it just kind of disappeared, and I was grateful. We could still be friends and I’d have nothing to worry about. It's been killing me since Freshman year to see you with all these other girls and wonder if there was something there. Then you started dating her. I must admit, I didn't see that one coming. Of all the girls I had been watching over the last two years I never suspected her. This was after you knew how I felt about you. It was a strange feeling, knowing that I had feelings for you at the same time you were developing feelings for her. And then you broke up, and I secretly celebrated. My heart, which refused to give up despite my will, was back in the game. And so it went, through this year. I still wished, I still made up things to see, like you flirting with me, starting to feel for me. I decided to set my sights on other guys, but I never felt the way I do about you, I knew I couldn’t deny it anymore. I still liked you... a lot. But I decided to bury it all and just go on the way we have been, only an idiot would ruin such a great friendship. Now my sights have been unconsciously set on another girl. Do you like her? Does she like you? I don’t know, but to me it sure seems that way. I wish I didn’t care, I wish I could just be your friend and be happy with it. But something inside me keeps telling me that I’m meant for you. I know it sounds crazy, it does to me too, but it’s the way I feel. And I know that it will never go away. You’ll probably never read this, because I don’t want ruin what we already have. Heck, I don’t even know how much you care about me, even as a friend. I don’t know what I am to you, and sometimes I’m not sure what you are to me. Maybe it’s best to just leave it alone and let myself think that you’re just a good friend. Maybe now I’ll be able to move on. I hope. But probably not.
I still love you. Lord knows I've tried to deny it, I tell myself almost every morning that it's all over. That I look at you and don't feel anything anymore. But then we joke and you look at me with that smile, and I know that I'm right back where I started. My heart pounds when I get close to you, when I "accidentally" brush up against you. One thing I've learned through the last few years that I've known you and loved you is that I'm a very jealous person. Sometimes I think you treat me different than the other girls, and it makes me feel special. But then I see you being the same with some other girl that you are with me, and I resent her. I've always wanted you just for me, to be my boy. It's so hard for me because I know you'll never feel the same way about me that I do about you. I never want to lose our friendship, it's become one of the most treasured things in my life. It's just sometimes I still wish that you'd look at me the way I look at you. That you'd think of me of more than just another friend, that I'd have some sort of special place in your heart. I know you've probably seen me do some pretty stupid stuff, but that's what happens when you start running out of ways to get closer to someone you're already incredibly close to. I just think that if I could get a little closer you'd see me in a different light. You'd see me as someone you could trust and someone you could give all your love to. You're without a doubt the most amazing person I've ever met in my life. You're funny and talented and you have a great moral character. You know when to be silly and when to be serious, you really know who you are and what you believe in. That's something I've always admired about you, you really seem to know who you are, and it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks of you. Then I told you how I felt, through a letter, like now. Your reaction was surprising at best. You didn't even acknowledge it, but you were visibly uncomfortable. You never said a word, one way or the other. Then it just kind of disappeared, and I was grateful. We could still be friends and I’d have nothing to worry about. It's been killing me since Freshman year to see you with all these other girls and wonder if there was something there. Then you started dating her. I must admit, I didn't see that one coming. Of all the girls I had been watching over the last two years I never suspected her. This was after you knew how I felt about you. It was a strange feeling, knowing that I had feelings for you at the same time you were developing feelings for her. And then you broke up, and I secretly celebrated. My heart, which refused to give up despite my will, was back in the game. And so it went, through this year. I still wished, I still made up things to see, like you flirting with me, starting to feel for me. I decided to set my sights on other guys, but I never felt the way I do about you, I knew I couldn’t deny it anymore. I still liked you... a lot. But I decided to bury it all and just go on the way we have been, only an idiot would ruin such a great friendship. Now my sights have been unconsciously set on another girl. Do you like her? Does she like you? I don’t know, but to me it sure seems that way. I wish I didn’t care, I wish I could just be your friend and be happy with it. But something inside me keeps telling me that I’m meant for you. I know it sounds crazy, it does to me too, but it’s the way I feel. And I know that it will never go away. You’ll probably never read this, because I don’t want ruin what we already have. Heck, I don’t even know how much you care about me, even as a friend. I don’t know what I am to you, and sometimes I’m not sure what you are to me. Maybe it’s best to just leave it alone and let myself think that you’re just a good friend. Maybe now I’ll be able to move on. I hope. But probably not.
To five wonderful women
Once there was a boy (some would say "young man," but inside he was really a boy) who fell in love very easily. He had loved once before and his heart missed it (having someone to love and who loved him so) and decided that it wanted romantic love again.
He met one woman (whom some who did not know her might call a girl until they knew her better) who spun tales from the aether and made him laugh like her smile saw into his own heart. He offered it to her, but it was not for her.
He met another whose mind seemed a prism that refracted life's lights as his did. They both found its scintillating colors and sounds and smells and tastes and textures and people to be endlessly fascinating and lovable. They both found that touching others' hearts and minds was one of their greatest loves. but, alas, neither was the other's greatest love. The boy offered her his heart, but it was not for her.
One woman (like the first, some who did not know her said "girl") he only saw through a window, yet in their minds they walked down many roads where she would pick up a stone and show it was a gem, and present to him facets he would never otherwise have noticed, and then she would show him there was no road and take him away from the oft-trodden ground and into skyscapes that seemed without end, and they flitted there like butterflies for hours. He offered her his heart, but was not for her.
He met another whose mind she kept behind tumblers around which shone soft white light, but he could not convince her to open it for him. Perhaps, he supposed, he did not deserve it. The boy offered his heart, but it was not for her.
He spoke with another through his window who was and remains a constant companion and would grab his hand to pull him out of many a haze and fog and hold it forever afterwards. The boy offered her his heart, but it was not for her.
All these had hearts that poured out love that flowed like a cool stream of foundry gold and minds that spun music from the stars, but the they and the boy found that his heart was not for any of them. But don't feel sad for him; it meant, that his heart was for someone he could and did look forward to meeting. He wrote these words and hoped each woman would read them and know why she would be forever in his memories.
Sincerely,
Eldon/Satyesu
He met one woman (whom some who did not know her might call a girl until they knew her better) who spun tales from the aether and made him laugh like her smile saw into his own heart. He offered it to her, but it was not for her.
He met another whose mind seemed a prism that refracted life's lights as his did. They both found its scintillating colors and sounds and smells and tastes and textures and people to be endlessly fascinating and lovable. They both found that touching others' hearts and minds was one of their greatest loves. but, alas, neither was the other's greatest love. The boy offered her his heart, but it was not for her.
One woman (like the first, some who did not know her said "girl") he only saw through a window, yet in their minds they walked down many roads where she would pick up a stone and show it was a gem, and present to him facets he would never otherwise have noticed, and then she would show him there was no road and take him away from the oft-trodden ground and into skyscapes that seemed without end, and they flitted there like butterflies for hours. He offered her his heart, but was not for her.
He met another whose mind she kept behind tumblers around which shone soft white light, but he could not convince her to open it for him. Perhaps, he supposed, he did not deserve it. The boy offered his heart, but it was not for her.
He spoke with another through his window who was and remains a constant companion and would grab his hand to pull him out of many a haze and fog and hold it forever afterwards. The boy offered her his heart, but it was not for her.
All these had hearts that poured out love that flowed like a cool stream of foundry gold and minds that spun music from the stars, but the they and the boy found that his heart was not for any of them. But don't feel sad for him; it meant, that his heart was for someone he could and did look forward to meeting. He wrote these words and hoped each woman would read them and know why she would be forever in his memories.
Sincerely,
Eldon/Satyesu
Sunday, August 3, 2008
To my family
Dear (so very dear) family,
Thank you all for all your help through this time. I don't even know the whole extent of what you did when I couldn't have learned of it, but the stories I'm told warm my heart. Thank you so much.
Love for all of you,
Eldon
Thank you all for all your help through this time. I don't even know the whole extent of what you did when I couldn't have learned of it, but the stories I'm told warm my heart. Thank you so much.
Love for all of you,
Eldon
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