i should be getting in the shower right now. should’ve done that half an hour ago, actually because this thing i’m going to starts in sixty-three minutes, and i’ve to wear a damned dress and heels and paint my face, and it takes me about twice as long as it does other girls to mess with that shit. the things we do to make ourselves pretty…
i should be getting in the shower, but i gave blood this morning, and i think the loss of some of the stuff flowing through my veins paired with all the damned rain we’ve gotten this week added to the fact that i was listening to prince’s let’s go crazy, when doves cry and purple rain… pile all that onto my already depressed shoulders and…
there’s good news. i probably should’ve started with that. two of my poems, the second and the third in this here post
, were selected for publication in montgomery college’s swirl: literature and arts journal
. i think it comes out next month. those poems, they are the best things i’ve ever written, in my oh, so humble opinion, and i love that someone else has thought enough of them to ink them on paper.
they are also the saddest things i’ve written. it gives me pleasure to know that i’ve taken something hideous–the death of my brother and the death of the only romantic relationship that’s ever mattered to me–and made something beautiful of them. it pleases me that i could pull those words from me. it pleases me that the writing of them was so incredibly effortless. it pleases me that maybe more of the world might think them beautiful.
it pains me to know that i’ve written such beautiful things about two men to whom i’ve been horribly unkind. it’s never occurred to me before… until today… that maybe my use of these tragedies is vanity on my part, still… too proud to have loved my brother when he needed me to, i have to make it sound like i loved him immensely… and i did for most of my life, but not when he needed me to.
and the other? he was a scientist of sorts–an electrical engineer. and i loved that i, the artistic one, could capture the attention of someone so much more intellectual. oh my god, that man was clever. and he had the most beautiful, green eyes. seriously. they were stunning. i’ve not seen such beauty since. i loved the sound of his voice. i loved how when he held me, i didn’t hurt. i loved that when i was with him i was the best possible version of myself. i was in love with him. but i could not love him. because you don’t shatter things when you love someone. you don’t think of yourself. and all i could think of was how much i loved who i was when i was with him. i should’ve been thinking of him. but i couldn’t. and now that’s all i do. everyday, i am reminded of him. and it’s been more than a decade since i lost him. since my hands, shaking from the fear of losing him and oblivious to just how fragile his opinion of me was, clutched too tightly what i felt and broke it. that coldplay album, a rush of blood to the head, every time i hear green eyes and the scientist and warning sign, i’m thrown back into the month after i’d lost him. next to my brother’s passing, that is the worst period of my life. it trumps the decade of ugliness i experienced as an adolescent. and yall, that decade was fucking hideous.
he told me later that i should find someone who’s good for me.
i’ve been trying. i swear to god i have.
but the ones i find are the ones who think it’s okay to fight with me about my family or cut a date short because they’ve to meet a “friend” or unload all of their own family drama onto the dinner table while on a first date. they’re the ones who only want me around to suit their purposes and meet their needs.
and i’m probably getting what i deserve, come to think of it, for having been so selfish and careless with that one man.
i think i’m going to have to read these poems in front of an audience at montgomery college one day in the coming weeks. i’ve been practicing. and i can read the one about my brother well enough. but the other.. when i say those words aloud, i sink just as i had on that night i’d been lying with him. i sink, still, because i’m trying and failing to find the good.