Melting

An attempt at parallelism. Imagery intended. Relatable yet personal. Flashbacks.

Frozen.

I run circles around who I could be and watch all that I once was that made me happy disintegrate like oblivious sugar dancing in coffee that's out-of-character decaf because I'm still too afraid to move too fast.

I've traveled this road for miles but my mind's stuck on distant scenery of our backyard filled with my memories, your voice, His promises, by the swing set.

They say it's about the journey and I believe them deep down, but on the surface I see nothing but stop lights and detour signs, black ice and tow trucks, diners and abandoned mobile homes with no natural ending but a car crash.

 

Drowning.

Water cleanses as it tumbles from my cat-scan brain to my Egyptian toes but my heart steals its oxygen as the rest of me freezes-solid and sable to strangers-like an ingenious statue of immortality, famous and eternal in history books and Euro-tours,

But to me it's a broken record, replaying the climax; the bridge I can't cross without harmony, the all-to-convincing chorus I want to believe but can't without limelight, a fan club, and million dollar paychecks to validate, to justify my success story.

 

Passion.

I've felt it twice in  my lifetime-from anger and heartache-both without warning

You told me that talent and sex and desire yield that kind of intensity

SO not once did I correlate fire with loss. Flames grow, never fade...

Not in our world where it isn't an option to digress or fail or change courses without consulting one's heartbeat.

 

Re-creation. Space shuttle nation.

 

My passion radiated beyond its first fire but I stayed silent

because in the heat of an argument tomorrow is distant.

Within sparks of conflicting possibilities fly angels of compromise

But we are blinded, protected or blessed o cursed or dreaming

until we wake up with blankets of charcoal that weigh us down and make us late for work

So we brush our teeth in the shower and spit out regret, minty fresh and promising.

Shave scares shaped like bacon into our thighs to save time for making mornings about renewal

Wash our hair with strawberries until it falls out in synchronized fields and leaves us forever, choking down orange juice as we search for a hat to cover the bald spots

No glance at the mirror for fear that yesterday's tomorrow prediction came true.

 

Progress.

It seems like I keep getting closer the more that I push and the less that I think.

Ouiji board futures, soulmate roulette, lottery tickets to heaven.

TO what? To where? Alone?

What' so fulfilling about the finish line if you can't see competitors disappointment?

I should hate to admit that I'd be beaming if I won, but then quickly disappointed myself.

Trophy shelf self-esteem. Battery-powered relic.

 

But I'm frozen

Writing in circles and drowning in questions I'm supposed to know the answers to by now.

I'm dreaming.

I hear every snowfall and taste each embrace

But I can't feel the warmth of a smile.

 

 

 

Author's Note

Comments welcome and encouraged.