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OrientedDis.. Disoriented. |
Tuesday, July 29, 2003 Your Poetic Story, Sending Me Off, Already Brought me Back "My art is an expression. I've gone down this road a thousand times. Searching for words to make air meaninful. I've tried to write the perfect poem. The perfect drug. The perfect lie. But all in all, Even in my most beautiful works, all attuned to you, There is simply no perfect verse. And no perfect line. I know that you're leaving. And I Wish I could stop you. Tuitions already paid. 40,000 dollars, All to be overseas. And I know you said you didn't even want to leave. But ya have to. And it's days like this that make me think that Since the day i'm awaiting is seven months away That maybe it's not a bad time to start looking. Words have started to fail me. Muddled, Trying to say i'd rather talk to you than leave. Trying to defend why I'm still awake and not sleeping. I Want to tell you you're more important than sleep but all that comes out is a murmur. If I showed you the extent of my emotion would you be afraid? And one more thing. Do I even know The extent? I tried to go back to the one time I really ever was sure I Felt true love. She pushed me away like I Would November. I Don't know how she could compare anything related to me to anything related to that bastard. But there it was, And it was to you that I Fell upon when I Felt like crying. As always, You saved me. And it's days like this that remind me of the boy on the string being lowered between the two cliff faces, swinging and teetering and hitting the walls. but it's you at the bottom that he collapses graciously onto, it's you who saves him. That boy is me. I'm back on the road to getting a job. I Gave up on school for so long. I know you'd congradulate me if you weren't preparing for your seven month journey. And it'll be me at the airline that picks you up, In a figure of speech. But even then, Flagstaff is 3000 miles away. And every type of landscape seperates me from it. Will you still be here when I make the journey home? Will you come with me to the city of roses? Or to the lost city buried under the sea, Who's throne is rightfully mine? Either one is good enough for me, So long as you're there for me. I will be waiting. I will be watching. I Will be anxious. And I Will still feel, every bit as strong as now, when you return. But will you?" --- Paul.... thank you so much.... this brought me back to realizing, everything I've already feared. I have no promises of what is going to happen as a result of this change. I imagine I will still manage to keep in touch with people. I imagine things might not change at all. My worst fear is that I might fail to come back the same, while you remain unchanged. I wrote a poem. Somewhat in response to this.. moreso just because I felt like doing-so - it can be found in the other journal. . . . babbled Lin |
