I am an empty vessel today...
No.
If...
If I were an empty vessel today, you would be gone...you would be nothing but a faint trail of dust and love...I would have lost my words and my half dead dreams.
I would've have pulled the plug and drained us away. Far off and away. Think..us, mingling with dirt and other lives..rejected and refused.
Obscure. No longer known or recognized.
Not wanted. Not needed.
Morbid in a life that is young.
Morose in a world that is old and aging.
Don't tell me to think of blue skies and sunflowers...
Don't buy me sunflowers.
Yellow is not happy and young. Grey is not dismal and old.
Its all in your head. In my head.
I'll blink and you'll be gone.
Transient. Temporary.
I'll blink and you'll remember...
Remember that you promised me a home of grey walls. If I leave the walls all bare and naked- no pictures, no photographs, no souvenirs- will my world be less lived?
Will you cut me a window where the tree stands? I'll watch you leave...look up and I'll wave you goodbye.
I'll spin myself a life of long slow ellipses. You can sit by your corner and watch me walk and stumble across it. You can see me escape one and fall into the other. See me be.
But will you stay that long?
Or no...Just another name....
I wish I were that shiny red button on Little Red Riding Hood's cloak...a fairytale life...Someone dreamed me up somewhere into a symmetrically perfect existence.
Why couldn't that have been you?
But you never dream of me....
You don't dream of me..you don't hear me..you don't see me. I am where the world ends for you. But where people are, where the sounds and smells and stories of other lives and times come, there I cease.
I shrink a little..everyday...into anger..into despair.
What is the difference between indifference and blindness?
She...a figment of my mind, my imagination... but more a fragment of your past...threading her way always into today. My today. Your today.... inspiring you, making you smile and laugh. Live.
And me?
Shadow....shrinking
Your music has dust...but sing me that song again..the one you wrote for me..
It was for me wasn't it?
There are no tender sweet words between us...but just for this one time will you sing the song again and hold my hand?
Your fingers lie limp in my hand...a few seconds and then I will pull myself away from that hold. Nothing will trap you then..
Its a cold world.
Bleak.
But grey is not old and dismal.
Grey november.
Cold and grey.
You sit by a cold fire...your stories all told...
And shadows shrink a little more..
I empty myself a little more..
Another fistful of nothing...
Dust and a fullstop.
