He just stood there. At the doorway. Just stood. It might be a bit complex to explain why him standing at a doorway was odd to his behavior. But, it was. He was hesitating. He never hesitated before.
I wanted him to speak. From where I sat, I smiled up at him. I waited for him to speak. His face cast in shadow, I could not see whether he smiled or not. But, if he did… if he did smile… I would not have known.
His shoulders slumped atop his tall stature. His necktie and suit coat sagged, tired of the stiffener that was put into them this morning. His hair, although he had just taken his cap off, was messy. For such short hair as his, it must have been hard to mess it up.
Whatever was on his mind, whatever thought made him hesitate, there in the doorway, made his hair look messy, even though his cap had just been taken off.
I fidgeted under the blankets. The warm blankets that the nice ladies kept in warmers to make us more comfortable. Subconsciously, I reached for my arm, and rubbed the area in which the IV stuck into. It itched. I hated that itching feeling. That feeling was something was just under the skin, and just out of reach.
So close, but never obtainable.
That was how I felt when he stood in the doorway. No, hesitated in the doorway. So close, but never obtainable.
“Dr. Lemu?” I asked. My voice quivered. I was worried. So, I tried a joke. Jokes always broke the awkward silent. I forced a laugh first. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Maybe you should get some fresh air.” That was not even a joke. “And call the ghost busters.” I added. I was never good at jokes.
His head shook, at least I thought he did. It was hard to tell when he stood in the shadows, so far away.
Out of sight and out of arms reach.
“Come on, quit scaring me, Doc.” I laughed again. Hopefully this one did not seem so forced as the last.
He lifted his head and looked at me. I had not even noticed that his head was down. With no light near his features, it was hard to tell.
“I’m sorry.” He hesitated again, like he never did. “It’s terminal.”
What do you want me to do?
Stand there and be like you?
How can I justify to you what I do,
When you’ll just toss me aside, like the rest, too.
This game of tug and war
Is making me go insane.
The times we spend together,
Weren’t the memories supposed to last forever?
You were never a lover,
But a friend that was supposed
To be here when I needed cover.
I know you’ll never stop to read this,
You’ll just pass on through.
I suppose that’s why I write for me,
And not you.
I am a social outcast,
And you’re with the in crowd,
But I thought being an individual
Meant staying unique,
You’re bipolar, insane.
I can’t grasp the concept of your mood swings.
What did I ever do?
What didn’t I do?
Please tell me
So, that I may forgive you.
You’ll be my best friend again.
Things can’t just go back to the way things were,
But I know that if you just help me mend it,
Maybe I won’t have to cry anymore.
Those endless nights I stay awake,
I could never burden a line with them on your face.
The dreams I had of you telling me you hated me,
Will never pass my lips, you see.
For you don’t understand what I went through,
And I’m not asking you to.
Just stop with this incessant confusion,
And let us be friends again.
Photo from The Telegraph
I remember those sweet January afternoons.
The feel of warmth against my neck and chill in my toes as I trudged through the feets of snow, sun blazing up above.
I remember them like they were yesterday,
The grey snake in the pathway,
Dried Ramen picnics,
The crunch, crunch, crunch of noodles and powdered broth.
I remember our first barbie snap-on sports bra,
Digging deep to find it like treasure,
Then rushing to our mom to show her what we found.
In those January afternoons, so filled with every fantasy game, film and novel.
Stirring those dusty sunray particles,
Filling me with that fragment of nostalgia,
Then closing my eyes and dreaming it all over again.
Those beautiful, dusty sun-ray particles of nostalgia remind me of how simple life used to be.
I got married in January, to taste that simplicity.
I saw my first dead deer in those parts.
Raised our first puppy in a Ramen box.
Ran and ran and ran through the old apple trees.
With my four other simblings
Oh, how lucky we used to be.
Friends left and smells gone,
I cringe at the bittersweet scents of the past.
Downy as down in chemicals is sickening
As stomach flips from previous kisses
Cat and spice, like a bad foreign romance, fills me with ache and pain, and an urge to spit upon the pages and scream out in anger, “I have ascended!”
Sweat and perfume, like the two brewed on a dusty old shelf, brought back feelings of freedom, carefree-ness and an urge to give all away,
Now, sink me low, like swallowed rocks, dragging my feet as the tears fall.
Will the pain never end? Is our only solution to fill these voids with “replacements”, never truly respecting those who step into the gap.
Smelling is as heartwretching as puking, vomiting, expelling all the bad and the good, never able to choose between.
Oh, what I would give for a smell eraser machine.