Hide (Lost In Lisbon)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Hiding...What I do best.

Submitted: November 10, 2011

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Submitted: November 10, 2011

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Hide.

Silence.  That’s what I hear.  It’s been so long.

The drone of the fan whispering in my ear

Cooling my back

Centering my sphere.

Please come back

Like a whistle on a freight far drifiting somewhere far or near.

Dissapear.  Or Hide.

Listen to it’s hum and follow the numb to the other side.  Foolish I was but used to never walk past these bars. Sober I walk in,  more like glide. One more shot of Jameson at 4. Closing time.  Still I’ll continue after I close the door. And then I’ll fall long past the rooster’s crow. When it’s  around  8 or 9.

A memory, a past, a different life, a girl, a love, a sunset over a village crumbling clinging to an older time

These  salt flats are now  dry and all that’s left are  buzzards that live, fuck, and die On this clay road and among them who am I? Just a drifter, another human stain, an accidental birth, a lost generation, a law with no name. A bystander. Worse. A passerby.

Lost in Lisbon no longer side by side, I walk behind, she walks ahead.  The reality no longer fits no longer makes sense.  regret.  I surpress.  I don’t want the truth. I want to forget.

She was  once my lover but now only in my head does she live.

Better to be happy and dumb? No. So why is it hard to find the peace? Where’s the fun? Where’s the win?

She was the girl who captured my dreams and made me believe they could be real.  She was the hope and prayer  the comfort in her stare.  The sex so good. No longer there.

Then we got lost in Lisbon and forever began the falling apart.

And New Orleans sealed the deal and crumpled our fragile  hearts.  We were paper maches too thin from the start.

But for six years a lifetime we lasted strong and tight.  But one clink in my armor made so vicious that night.  Then dialogue, like cancer, spread and ate us both up swallowed every last bite.

Till there was nothing left except, grief, anger, hurt, death, and spite.

I started this I will suffer for my silly misguided tingling, gnawing, aching, shaking, reminder, and then came the launch, the rocket of truth, shot up my spine, exploded in my head, and said,

I think I should move out.”  And that was the end.

rather be dead or living blind, with a sweet voice, and a shield from the unkind, and I will never love again.

At least not for a while.

But till then. Till then I will hide.

 


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