Journal Entries
Winging it
Posted Jun 16, 2003
Marty was another soul who grazed mine. We were friends who almost became lovers. I couldn’t though. I had never met anyone who was as damaged as Marty. Marty was this man who still possessed this child soul. Not in a child-likeness but as in a frightened child. He would protect his child with control over his immediate environment. One morning he made breakfast for me, it was very good. Afterwards I went to rinse the dish off and put it in the sink. Marty stood there and watched me. As soon as I was finished he re-rinsed the dish. One night while we watching TV I was sitting next to him, a commercial came on about family violence. Marty tensed up and almost walked away. I turned off the set and asked him what was wrong. He looked at me so hard that I almost cried. I came to him and gently put my arms around him. I took him back to the couch where we were sitting and held him so tight I trembled. After a while his heart grew quiet and he told me. Once his father beat him for slamming the screen door. He said that it hurt more because his father beat him in front of some of his friends from school. I cried. Then he held me and we cleansed our hearts together. I spent only a little time with Marty his pain was greater then either of us. I think deep down he knew that.
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Living next to the end
Posted Jun 16, 2003
Then there is Susan. Such a fragile being. She was the first woman I fell in love with. Susan of the long hair and the damaged soul. When we were together I would just sit near her and let her talk. I wasn’t sure who she was talking to, but I was happy just to be with her.
Some nights I would come over and read with her. When it was time for bed she would take my hand, because I always waited for her, and lead me to her room. She had simple tastes just a mattress on the floor and a bookcase in the corner. We would undress in the dark, it had to be dark. I didn’t find out until much later why the darkness. She would lay down and wait for me. After undressing I would curl up beside her and lay my head on her stomach. She would then tell me stories. I wanted to crawl inside of her head just to be closer to her. Some times I would fall asleep to the sound of her voice. From her stomach I could hear her heart beat and the air filling her lungs. Her heart beat was the rhythm that kept the melody of her body flowing. In those moments I floated on the echoes of her sounds. I never made love to Susan, but she always made perfect love to my soul. In exchange for my heart Susan gave me her real name. Every one knew her by Susan, but only I knew her real name. Even if the name she gave wasn’t her real name I never knew and didn’t care. One day Susan wasn’t waiting for me after work. She wasn’t at her place and nothing was missing. I never saw her again. She still lives in me, though. When I’m curled up in the bed alone I can listen to her heartbeat and the music she sang to me.
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Living on the 16th floor
Posted Jun 16, 2003
Dan was someone taught me the difference between having sex and making love. Not one I was happy with at the time, but a lesson learned. I watched as his eyes changed from hazel to a shade of yellow. I laid beside him as he told me of the only girl he ever loved and when she killed herself. We cried and then we held each other until the sun set. He would stay at my place and perch on my kitchen counters and eat all of my jello powder. I wouldn’t let him climb my apartment walls. Well, I was the one who had to live there. Dan would leave in the middle of a conversation if you didn’t indicate that it wasn’t over. He would decide to leave the country without telling anyone. He usually became a rumor. Now my psychotic love is some where making friends. I would follow Dan into a blind alley any day. I trust him completely.
A follow up. I haven't heard from Dan for at least 11 years. I hope that he isn't dead or at least he went the way he lived.
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True?
Posted Jun 16, 2003
It was a rainy night in Boston. I couldn't sleep so I went for a walk. I saw him standing in an alley. I couldn't stop myself from talking to him,watching his mouth as he formed the words to my questions.
I brought him back to my place. I was trusting him to not kill me. We talked all night. I turned on lights only to find that too much light paled his dark skin. I tried different lights to find the combination of shadows to frame him. His was perfect. The white ivory of his teeth contrasting his dark plum lips. I had lost track of what he was saying and rode the waves of the tones in his voice. I closed my eyes and felt his sounds float over me like many layers of wet silk. I kept from touching him. It would have grounded me. I didn't want that quite yet.
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