Last night I sat and wrote a list,

the Pros and Cons of what you did.

I stared at the wrinkled page with

its simple division

between reality and delusion.

To the left an impossible world,

but to the right the actuality of our life.

And the fact that the bad doubled

the good

was no surprise to these speckled eyes of mine.

Yet I must choose a path to follow

Take care of your heart were the doctor’s orders

a ventricle for life, the other pumping death.

Take the wrong one, be cold and stiff.

And so I sit before the leaf,

your face etched in every frantic scribble,

wondering if ‘idiot’ means you or me.

A road sits between her house and his

and traces her every journey

watches the fever and the rapture

hears the same rock and roll.

Notices the same details he’ll never forget

savours the thirty clicks, that he counts down

while he draws out her departure, it is the passage.

the highway is her true and constant companion, but not her true love.

The long flat direction ahead, to his arms.

glances into the mirror at the girl that looks back, beautiful for him.

The main drag, witness to the love, the familiar, the reunion,

the road, jealous of her destination, her intensity.

Asphalt, there for the car’s breakdown, battery fails,

but never her heart.

Keeps her awake, keeps her safe, for him,

alone.

From heart to highway,

she sees the tears, the distance, the nearness, the joy

The anticipation, the race, the warmth, the spins.

That one night, dark as night,

the beginning, the ache of the unknown. The blurry

road behind the euphoria, the blaring

lights between gaps in memory.

I love, I love, she loves.

And this is how the highway feels, each and every time.

TransCanada/TransRomance

my best friend, heart swelling.

She lives near the TransCanada,

and so does He.

 

A road sits between her house and his

and traces her every journey

watches the fever and the rapture

hears the same rhythm and blues.

Notices the details he neglects

savours the thirty clicks

patiently awaits her return

the highway is her true and constant companion.

The long flat direction ahead.

glances into the mirror at the girl that looks back.

The main drag, witness to the love, the familiar, the fracture,

jealous of her destination.

Asphalt, there for the car’s breakdown, battery fails,

so does her heart.

cushions her foot  as it kicks at air. Remedy.

From heart to highway,

she sees the tears, the distance, the nearness, the joy

The reluctance, the break, the ice, the spins.

That one night, dark as night,

it was night, the end, frustration and ache. The blurry

road behind the lament, the blaring

lights between gasps of survival.

I’m fine, I’m fine, she’s fine.

And this is how the highway feels, each and every time, never any heeling

TransCanada/TransRomance

my best friend, heart swelling.

I need to erase you from my life (permanently)

but still keep your presence perpetual.

You must observe distance

but you should probably rush in.

I insist on feeling alone

but can only sense two.

Your reality may (/not) sicken me

but is it love sick or otherwise?

I anticipate where this future is headed

but I prefer to feign ignorance.

We need to communicate

but you just shut your mouth and I

just start my tears.

I don’t want this

but I don’t want anything else.

And most of all I wish it had never happened

but I hope that it will never stop.

When I look back now to that night in the restaurant, I realize it’s the very moment we ended, when we came to a stop. When there was no further purpose to our constant dreaming. And I had been dreaming forever.

It had been a few years, two or three maybe, and I was nervous about our meeting. The anticipation was overwhelming, and your sudden interest seemed powerful. It had a sweet taste, but a guilty one too and I was overly conscious of your intent and the words that veiled it. Although we were separated by years, we conversed, but only through others. I was actively passive in this relationship; I pretended disinterest yet I wasn’t quite believable. I was so young back then and too late to realize.

We first agreed to meet at a loud dingy pub and I was grateful for this, for the noisy music, for the dark lighting to conceal my expressions and for the multitudes of people. I was too conscious of what I was wearing, how I looked, how you would perceive me and I was crazy for caring. Like I was seventeen again and you too old to consider it.

We were with a group, but I was aware of your glances, your feet touching mine, and your closeness as you spoke to me. I had waited all those years for something close to this and had always been disappointed. Now that it was happening, it felt wrong and dated. Stale. We went for a walk and I battled with myself. For wanting to cherish every moment and wanting to throw it away. We walked for an hour around Camden town. The air was crisp, our cheeks were rosy, and I fell in love with the moment. That hour had turned me toward you again, to the teenage mindset, and those silly dreams. I was so crazy.

Realizing the time, we raced to the tube, worried that we’d miss the last train, giggling and catching our breath on the platform. I can still feel the smile that was spread across my face and your hazel eyes that looked down at me. We separated at the station, a kiss on the cheek, a reluctant goodbye. And it was as I walked down Bayswater Road to my bed, that you sent me those messages with too many sentiments and asked to meet for dinner. I said yes, the butterflies again, and I fell asleep wondering where this was all going and what it all meant.

Dinner was at a restaurant from my childhood and I wondered if you knew, if you had somehow planned it. We drank beer and talked freely until the food arrived, and you looked at me expectantly. There was the awkward moment just before I took my first bite and you asked me those two questions. The two questions that altered our love. ‘Yes’ was the answer to both and you were left vulnerable and defeated, much the way I had been left all those years ago. I wanted to hold you like a child and bandage what was broken. But some things can never be fixed and that’s when I knew it was over.

You haven’t looked me in the eye since and I wonder how we’d be if I had answered ‘no’.

Clenched teeth, clenched fists

as I enter the night,

a small ball under the sheets.

I close my eyes,

against better judgment,

a sleep so restless

only paranoia remains.

These ‘sweet’ dreams sting

apprehensive of

that downfall, of yours,

and that broken heart, of mine.

pending.

The one who brought me to you, is the same who took you away. Malevolent benevolence, this one controls our fortune. Be weary of me, don’t get too close, your heart could break. Look at me, but don’t know me. Hold me, but don’t keep me. Be fond of me, but don’t love me. Please don’t love me. Don’t bridge this distance between us, let it lie down without a fight. Turn from me and find another, closer and more convenient. Save yourself this pain, find another regret. Start anew and forget me, this distance is too much, you’ll thank me soon enough.

Or take my hand and place me at your side. Let us be the ones to decide our future, not some other unknown. Battle each mile and forget each hardship. Live for an achievement, something to behold.

Whichever you choose, meet your maker and make something of this mess.

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