Thursday, July 29, 2010

I am in love with you; I want nothing from you

there's this theory
once

that mars had life on it.

the planet was full of biological potential but

it was incapacitated suddenly
ravished to desolation
over one passionate eon
compacted
into thick red dust
while ice dripped down its chin and perspired off its crown

as if it had a memory of tears...

...but not enough heat to sustain a single heartbeat


arguably
there was life
once

two pairs of arms and legs
two pairs of eyes and hands that held each other

completeness is and always has been the loneliest feeling

the eyes wept, the arms faltered, the legs stumbled
and the hands trembled grasping the thin air
until another pair could claim this pair and both could understand what being alone was;
what separateness was long enough to become frightened of it

and so this was life

the men stared at the women
as if waiting for them to stop
being beautiful
as if waiting for them to stop
being helpless
the women did not wish to be looked at
they shivered for the tiny moments of privacy
when the men would stir the air to blink

when the women began to grow old
the men stopped looking at them
they only had their ancient polaroids that they passed around
and smiled at
as if remembering,
though in their minds, nothing had ever changed
and the women did not look up
not even when they were photographed
their eyelids were covered in dust already
as the wind eroded everyones broken heart

did you know sand from mars is hydrophobic?
that is because it has not felt the wetness of tears in over 13 million years.


no one cried the day mars died.

once
on earth

I held your face and kissed you
kissed you
kissed you
and I was falling into the open door of your face


(I had somehow found that hidden key lost among all the miscellaneous clutter of life
the rubberbands the inkless pens the broken toys and trinkets no one can bear to toss
so we keep them and they hope--it's so wrong for us to keep them and make them hope
but keeping is a comfort, a validation that there must be some truth in our memories
I'm certain this worked once..
and we'll clutch the tangible no matter how useless
to make up for the fact that we're going to forget--someday;
you can't hold onto your memories like you can hold onto
rose thorns and torn lace
smashed legos and cardboard puzzle pieces
broken locks, useless keys)

I was so relieved that it hurt..I was so relieved I could still feel pain.

we were falling into the other side of life
the one we had always hoped was the actuality
and not the one we dreamed and smiled at,
as we dreamed
and it waved at us; beckoned
as we dreamed

in that kiss, stars imploded
behind our faces
we knew each other completely
behind our faces
so drawn in that instant to a spiraling whirlpool of timelessness
where nothing mattered more than anything else
and our hearts matched in beats and pulse became our own secret language
my skin became the pale sheen of dawn
your mind the glowering setting sun
and completely convinced we needed those conversations
to live
I couldn't remember the consistent bray of my own heart, alone
what it sounded like;
without that terrible and wonderful unison

(you were the person I fantasized being trapped on a desert island with; being abducted by aliens with; you alone,
who I imagined peeking through windows and random holes into my life, mesmerized, clearly you were mesmerized, just as much as I was with you,
no,

more

and you peeked over my shoulder, listened when I sang, smiled when I was charming and no one was there to see me being charming, you were there every second I spent thinking I was alone but still harboring this overwhelming love that lay unclaimed inside the tiny sighing chambers of my
)

and I dreamed about the impossible cruelty you could wield until I believed
and feared it

you knew each shivering molecule
which became blood and which

would become tears...


our telescope eyes could not see past the milky way
and our love was not completely small enough for one solar system
so we hurt each other to make up for the absence of stars
longing,
not for the hopeful light they cast,
but for the possibility of making wishes
and wondering simply,

if they would ever come true


we smelled our scents on our pillows and cried into them
burrowing our faces into them as if we could sink back to the other side
where I was simply me, alone
and you were no one at all
where we were no one to the other and had no wish to be
and so I looked at you until I didn't know youI kept not knowing you until you disappeared
underneath a hidden tear in the wallpaper where a word was written and had faded into stardust with each small breath I took





and somewhere caked in dust is a polaroid of me
writing my name on a clean sheet of paper
it was the name you gave me
it was my name and I hadn't known until you said it outloud, in the dark...


there were no sounds or letters and nothing was called anything nothing knew what it was yet



and somehow,
a m a z i n g l y
you had known me
you had known that I existed

somewhere








but by then it was too late and mars looked like any other star that would never grant a wish of mine.





-april lulabee








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