you.
her.
me.

well,


i am
any other too-smart ignorant
for her own good wants to learn.be.live.try.question.taste.feel.fuck
everything

kind
of
girl.




those countless nights i can't seem to fully remember,
the illusions that things were just as they should be
only to collapse and deceive me with consequences,
the painstaking instrusion of reality,
the isolation and brutal cold of every fucking winter,
the white white walls,
those everywhere trees that i swore laughed at me
while i walked up twenty two steps,
that bloody intuition and perception
that turned us into vulnerable mushed up malleability,
the swooning only to fall face-first into nothingness,
the convictions of a worn out dream
and the discovery of insanity that drenched down my lips
in words i couldn't stop saying,
the release in taking off all of my clothes
to dance in the rain, turning to a staring crowd
and not caring until the next day.
the strands of your hair that i kept in a box
and the pieces of your sweater kept in side-table drawers,
and i swear i'm not crazy, if not a little bizarre.
the keen and awkward listening behind a bedroom door
where i heard you in a bed i once tied you to,
the tragedies and disasters,
the inevitable circumferentail details that have me convinced that everything is circular...

well i have waited for this moment
of building up and building up
this torrent of climactic detail
where it's so full of everything it's waiting to burst
and only a couple more seconds to go until the
static fuzz of every question answered lulls to its end
in one sound release.

and there's that moment,
that silent moment of understanding
where we drop our heads and close our eyes.

and we just know,



how
beautiful
it all
is.




i don't
regret


that.

12/30/2005

Posted on 12/30/2005
Copyright © 2024 Lauren Singer