Hazy Dreams

The world leaves us behind-
I think-
drowning in half-remembered loves
and hazy dreams of haunts once adored-
Before we grow old enough to learn
We can't keep it in the first place.

I want to say things.
I want to explain.
I want to open up
and be a functioning human being
when it matters
for at least once in this life.

When I try,
The words get stuck in my throat,
Catching there,
Begging to be set free
yet held back from a tightening,
Frightening,
Constriction of everything
that runs between my gut
and my common sense,
A stranglehold of anxiety
refusing to let go.

I suffocate under my own power
before I let someone
close enough
to do the job themselves.

It's 2:31am

It's 2:31am
and I'm waiting for a bus in Montreal
that will take me to the airport.
The snow on the ground is thick,
but I'm wearing wool socks
and a good jacket
so I'm not cold.
I'm a little lonely though.

It's 2:49am
and I'm still waiting.
My feet are a little chilly,
but I've started to create a small little square
of packed snow
next to the bus stop sign.
I'm still lonely,
especially when I look up at the hotel
where my friend still sleeps.

It's 2:52am
and my feet feel like blocks of ice.
I'm curling my toes constantly,
trying to guess whether or not
I'll miss my bus
if I step back inside the hotel lobby.
All the buses that have passed by are wrong.
When is mine going to arrive?

It's 3:05am
and I might have frostbite.
I don't know.
But the wrong buses keep passing
and now out from bars
come people who are ending their day
while mine began over an hour ago.
I am grumpy
and lonely
and cold.

It's 3:08am
and angels have arrived.
Two fellow souls headed for the airport
with a phone to tell them when the bus will arrive
exactly.
My feet are cold,
and growing ever more painful,
but now I am not so lonely.
Now I have hope.

It's 3:16am
and I'm sitting on a bus in Montreal
as it winds its way to the airport.

Au vacances avec mon ami meilleure,
je peux rester.
Nous sommes heureueses aujourd'hui,
(et hier, et demain).
Dans un autre pays,
nous apprennons des lecons
tres important
pour tous notres vies.

To my 'This One'

I apologize,
good sir,
for not being affectionate
in ways others look for such emotion.

I have always been private-
sharing a lot with only a few-
and have always been unsure,
confused as to the rules of affection
and displays of it.

(You may notice,
however,
that whenever I can
I hand to you
that tea you so adore)

I long to keep this precious thing betwixt us
precious,
and ours,
because I don't know the rules-
or think I don't, anyway-
and I'm so bad at communicating
when I can't craft for you
sentences and phrases that spin
off the page and meander through minds
as I say two things at once.

I never learned affection
in gestures and touches.
I learned to do things,
to say them however poorly the words come out.

Words I am writing for you,
saying to you,
will always be yours.
I will have a mug for you
without your even asking.
(Talk about it enough
and it might sometimes be coffee)

Even if the poetic style shifts,
you will know when the words are yours.

In his arms,
after a night among friends,
as we lean back against the couch cushions
and think how our game could have been won,
there is no suffocation,
only the feeling of peace.

I'm suffocating myself.
Bit by bit,
I cut away at ties.
I am isolated.
Alone,
Maybe there
I can save me from myself,
Take the hands off my throat.
Yes,
all alone
i can save me.

Clawing my way through
yet another low,
waiting,
wanting,
the response I need
it's not forthcoming
and now I'm getting lost
in my own head
and I need him,
or anyone,
but the void I'm shouting into
is silent.

A gathering of glass,
the weather-brought coating
that looks akin to water in the sea
as it rolls over the wind-worn plains of snow,
this ice
is glorious and shines in moonlight,
a cliched piece of beauty,
I would not be rid of this sight.

it closed,
and the set is torn down,
and i feel nothing.
It was another circus,
another show,
there will be more.
I will miss,
in time,
this particular rendition,
but not so much as to lose
any further sleep over it.