you and other failed wishes.

you and other failed wishes.


i feel like i'm in a
deserted place right
now, but of course i'm not.
you're still not here any
more, and, finally, i'm
beginning to see things differently.

every time i catch a glimpse of you,
my heart does something funny and
unpleasant and it makes me wonder
how many bruises it has from
dropping from such a height
into my stomach.

you were never one who could
see constellations in freckles
on someone's skin, and you
never understood why my
spine would crack sometimes
if i breathed in too deeply.

you never knew that i didn't
like the things we kept in
coffins to stay there for very
long, or that every time you
hid behind your smile i had
to fight myself a little harder.

so many things began to go
unspoken until i had so much
trouble distinguishing the truth
from the not-so-true and i never
truly realized that behind your
eyes you never really cared about
my mental health anyway.  

you could always keep
pushing it because in all
honesty i never caught
on that i needed someone
with much better intentions
and many more words.

i'm discovering what's left
over and wondering, who else
did i need to impress, who
else did i need to impress.

i can keep this to myself, but
i need someone who can
appreciate in the same way i
do the folds in the jeans at
my knees and the way the
trees in my backyard can
sometimes catch the sunlight.

but i've seen you too.
i've seen what you seem
to see in me, now that
we're at some distance.  

in your eyes, you're not the
one who's changed: i am.  

you see the way that my
voice is a little too loud and
my laugh a little too much
and every second i have i
feel the need to prove myself.

you're beginning to recognize
how i never really had a life
of the mind after all, and i'm
really just one of them with a
very convincing disguise.

my eyes are dead but i still
smile mostly because they tell
me too, but i could never really
manage to watch my words and not
much has changed after all, has it.

no, nothing has changed: you're
just beginning to get that you really
did fool yourself in order to cope
with some reality that sometimes
still bothers you though you don't
let anyone see it.  

i give a fake little scream at
a ghost or a spider and i
believe all the while that i'm
wearing my own clothes
when i don't even own the
thoughts that flow into my head.  

i am so disgusting and obvious
and shallow and it's killing
you now that you ever
thought that someone like
me could be beautiful or
in any way good for you.  

oh, yes, i believe that i see
both of these sides with an
equal amount of clarity, so
will someone explain to me
why, at the bitter end,
it is myself that i hate.  

i notice how i have to try
not to look angry even
though i am nothing of the
sort and i feel this creeping
hurt in my bones and in
my head and still it makes
me tear up to think that these
are the only things we ever
accomplished together.

if my pride will ever let
me, someday i think i'd
like to look back on what
became of us and wonder,

what kind of wish was this?