let everything happen to you
Misguided Ghosts
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Driving down Southern Boulevard, to the western end of Palm Beach, I see him. The dark blue walls enclose around us, the hum and the buzz of the television in the corner and the air conditioning unit in the background. We get high and talk, but never say anything we really want to or should have. So we kiss and fall asleep in the soft light of the Florida sun at dusk, the draft of it peaking through the individual blinds behind the curtains. Our togetherness remains safe in the cool quietness of the blue room.
Down Mercer and then through the cobblestone streets of the West Village, I see him--tall and handsome and gentle, still a boy inside of a man's body. His body presses against mine; we're wearing matching beanies because his style rubbed off on me. The breeze from the Hudson River envelops us as we grab a cab and head back to the nest of all the things we made vulnerable and open to each other--they permeate the room, sad and holy. For a few weeks we are just being to being, bones and bodies irrelevant.
I walk alone, I see the white halo in the sky that is the moon. It's a giant rock, I think to myself. Just floating in the universe, in my universe. And it shows up every night--it's there, dependable, even when not visible. What a sick love story between the sky and the moon. A rock that lights up the whole sky, all of the darkness, every night. In circles, in circles.
I see him now, sometimes in person, usually in past moments through photographs; photographs from afar in Europe, in New York, in Chicago, on a coast and near a castle in rolling hills and in nice cars. With someone else, another lover long distance, with no one else. I still see the insecurity, the unavailability, the same blue walls he's always held up to me. The same blueness that left us empty, the same walls that broke us down.
I see him now, only in photographs, with the girl he lives with, shares a life with. I see a flicker of myself in his eyes when I think of their softness, their honesty. He refuses to speak to me saying I possess the ability to derail his relationship. I said the only people that can derail a relationship are the two people within it. But I understood and breathed into it, the same way I breathe into the sky when I see the moon lighting up the path in front of me.
Misguided ghosts
Traveling endlessly
The ones we trusted the most
Pushed us far away
And there's no one road
We should not be the same
But I'm just a ghost
And still they echo me
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