How to Reason with Myself in This Unreasonable Snow-Filled Air.

There's nothing. Still, nothing is something if you calculate it properly, it's vast, ten miles wider than the sky, seventy-six feet higher than the peeling redwood I rested my back against on a February afternoon up in the mountains of Washington State. It dwarfs me, not unlike almost everything else, only this is suffocating, draining and far too real.

        I believe I turn, flashback, rewind the memories when reality kicks in. I can feel the breath of words dancing across the nape of my neck and the sand of my life itchy and uncomfortable on the tip of my tongue, the scream that held my entire being dies somewhere in between my toes and I only want to whisper to him,

        “Be careful, you're winning. One day, when you open your eyes, I'll be gone.”

        The problem is I know who I am. I know every little thing about me, about my skin, my hair, my mind, my eyes. I even know that there's so much more that I need to find out, I know that in two weeks from now, I'll be different. I stand behind myself, pushing forward, leaning in and encouraging, I'm aware the wind is harsh and the future is blinding, I know my tears will saturate the earth in the months to come.

        He's a mind f**k. A huge mind f**k and he knows it. Maybe that's what I love about him. Maybe it's his crass nature sticking out like blood against my stark white skin, he is that which opposes me in every direction. Maybe that's it.

        Could be his arms, the way they hold me, the way the tattoo he decorated on his own bicep during the years he spent in prison is what makes him so delicious.

        Maybe I love the way he makes me cry.

        A woman is nothing but what you believe her to be. She cannot be anything else, not to you...a woman is what you choose to see, nothing more, nothing less. At least until you open your eyes...

        But, then again, depending on your timing, she may be gone.

        I'm discussing our future, with myself again. I know tonight, he'll hold me, he'll tell me he loves me, he'll kiss that square inch of shoulder that encompasses two freckles that argue over the curve of his bottom lip. He'll whisper to me about marriage, about my beauty, moments after I've become one hundred percent his again, seconds after he's pulled me out of nothing by my ankles as his coy smile whispers into my ear,

        “Relax,” he'll tell me, and I will. I'll melt, relax and whisper his name..

        and when I open my eyes....

        I'll be gone.

 

 

Reviews

[Kara Emily Krantz]

" I even know that there's so much more that I need to find out, I know that in two weeks from now, I'll be different."

"Maybe I love the way he makes me cry" - oh yes. beautiful

You are so incredible my dear.

This one was different for you, as well. You delved a little deeper into your Self, a little deeper into the meaning - of the world, of YOUR world, of you, and him, and everything.

Terribly powerful.

And i love how you create images while using completely abstract language.... you don't specify what's happening (especially when it comes to sexuality and such) but we know... the reader knows.. :)

Incredible, as always, my dear.

[Fade]

" Maybe I love the way he makes me cry."

This is the most telling line in the piece, by it's unimportant placement in the middle. It's a thought, a "what if" in a dirty mirror, a whispered "that can't be it... except it is" that explains the rest of the work.

It's a fight, a fight that can't be won, a fight against wanting that which one can't want. And she loves the fight, despite her delicacy, and her knowing better.

and then...

""Relax," he'll tell me, and I will."

It's over. It's a draw, and a draw against a stronger opponent is a win.

And she likes to win... even more than she likes to fight.

Brilliant.

(And I"m back, d****t.)

[just is]

He's a mind f**k. A huge mind f**k and he knows it. Maybe that's what I love about him. Maybe it's his crass nature sticking out like blood against my stark white skin, he is that which opposes me in every direction. Maybe that's it.

I so loved these lines, kinda of cute as well as truthful at times.

You tell an amazing story. I like this alot, you have style.

[Tara]

Wow...beautiful, Jean Marie! I love the whole bit where you are questioning "what it is" that keeps you there. And your opening is killer. Philosophical , romantic, self aware, introspective!

[An owl on the moon]

You write a whole world into existence in one page, one miraculous page of introspective confession. Existential life, floats and drifts around me as I read your amazing words. I don't want to open my eyes just yet...