Stream of Leaves

A stream of consciousness poem, set in Autumn.

 Stream of Leaves

 

 

“Why is there always something wrong with you?”

 

 You asked in a two tone double-ended monologue,

Our voices grayscaled in the rain of leaves.

But me, I took time to think, and so when I had finally opened my heart

To answer, all I saw was past run-ins with future shadows of a hope…

That I might get another glimpse of you

But between straight-faced talking—

Head cameos and late night loss

Of inhibitions, I still have yet to not want to find you.

 —I was hoping you could help—

 

I thought I’d find you on the night side mountaintop, eclipsed,

But you said you don’t climb mountains, never gonna,

And so I’m stuck waiting for myself

To be less like me…

 

—Here’s where you come in—

“Why?” I lip-read in your slack eyes,

But this time I was quicker in my perfect-childhood observations:

“Go fix yourself,” I mumbled,

Self-made optimism kicking in halfway so that I forgot

Entirely about broken arm flying, falling.

It let me go on:

“I know I can’t control you,

Even though you’d let me.”

 See, I don’t need these like Band-Aids

For people who won’t let themselves believe

That they can bleed.  

 

So when you looked hurt,

I only raised my voice and saran-wrapped wings:

“Step up outside yourself and rethink

Overthinking. Stop acting and soft-lip-slipping hard-skin-shedding Do.”

Yeah, I know I was never close-eyed tight-fisted

Touched, as you were, but I’ve manufactured my own bruises.

As a child I grew to understand that it fell to me

To invite their demons down my half-mile

Dirt road buffer, and I’ve said some nice things

I’d like to take back, but can’t.

  

So here’s a self-forged IOU to keep you safely

In your lonely nights.

“I know it’s been really, really hard sometimes,”

The wind and I golden letter whispered in frayed footing and loose edges,

“And I know you’ve been cracked-fishbowl lonely,

Lost in your handheld house of mirrors

Closed mouth letting the rain in.

I just…

Want to be lonely with you.”

 

—Honest account,

From a Blank Passport

 

Reviews

[cest la vie]

First reviewer..Difficult position..

I read this piece a few times, and each time came away with such a desperate feeling. You have done a most wonderful job here. On so many levels. The dialogue is like none I have read here.
I am almost speechless, as this is one of the best pieces I have ever read here.
To cite favorite lines, difficult. One stands out:
"And so I'm stuck waiting for myself
To be less like me� "

Your willingness to sacrifice to be with the one you love is beyond scope.

This is an absolutely magnificent piece.

[Legion]

That was a hard look at a relationship that is unsure of itself. Your wording is incredible and you tell the tale splendidly. Harsh and softly at the same time. Wonderfully done.

[Emily B]

you've got to love those conversations. . . my many thanks to Marie for the read request :)

[Marie Anzalone]

Wow. It is rare that I encounter a piece where I stop immediately and not only add it to my favorites, but also recommend it to others, and THEN got to check out the author's profile. I have reread this several times over, and each time it leaves me with a sense of things broken beyond repair, wistful longing, and a whole bunch of complex emotions. Lynne and CHL commented already on my favorite lines, too... but the whole piece resonates with me of a longing so profound it might not even be entirely of this world. I feel like I am witness to a prayer uttered in words and sentences. "Go fix yourself" you say, but the tone says, "I really wish I could be the one to fix you, but I know I cannot". This is a remarkably powerful poem, and among the finest of this genre I have ever read. I am very very glad you entered it in my contest, and I was able to discover your magical gift for stringing together images and breathing life into them. Thank you for sharing these stolen moments of dialog and weaving them into this magnificent tale of loss.

[Cool Handless Luke]

Superb write. Gotta snag this one for the library. This one was right up my alley. Touches of Dylan Thomas. Loved your power of description and metaphor. Lynne's fav line was one of mine too. Plus the "I just . . .want to be lonely with you."

[Jackson Krauss Blind Pa..]

The dialog is taken almost verbatim from several conversations I've had recently, between rooftops and streetlights. I'll never be able to forget them, or those involved, nor will I ever want to...