“A memory is a beautiful thing, it’s almost a desire you miss.” -Gustave Flaubert

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Here & Now

You say you will stay up until we both get home.
There’s no doubt you will.

What you don’t know- home is a destination I just never get to.
What I do know- home is some sort of lie you live in.
You saw me across the bar and thought I was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.
Alone- I seemed to be looking for nothing in anybody’s eyes.

What you don’t see- at a certain point deep loss becomes deep disconnection.
What I see- Disconnection often wears the same eyes as confidence.
You saw me dancing on my own and fell in love with how good I was at ignoring even my shadow.
Alone- I seemed so far away and yet so near.

What you tell me is when you were alone you had ‘no grey hairs, no sex, no fights.’
What I don’t tell you is- obsession will not change the color of your hair.
You want to know me, be close to me, touch me, but how much of your desire is I’m forbidden.
Alone- I am a forbidden city, the palatial heart of a terrestrial empire totally swallowed by the sea (see Atlantis for comparisons)

What you say- you want is to know me intimately
What I know- you want is to figure out this Rubix Cube, prove to yourself you can unlock what you see as a complex human puzzle.
You tell me my eyes leak cups full of vulnerability that I will let you hydrate from after years of staying with someone you don’t love who has left you dehydrated.
Alone- I drink all the vulnerability I can thinking about your house full of empty cups and dry throats.

What you want is- a Chocolate Cosmo flower blooming in your dandelion garden.
What I’ve always wanted- is for people to see if a dandelion bloomed in tropical Africa, if it would be treated as a flower.
You tell me I have no idea how handsome I am, how wanted I am.
Alone- I know I dance well on my own and when people watch, my physical appearance is not what comes to mind.

What you really want- an affair.
What I really want- is someone that knows love is not meant to be everything you want (lust or infatuation, maybe?)
You see me as your Tokyo, somewhere you’ve never been, a trip that could change you, make you worldly.
Alone- I see you as a some part of my hometown that wants me to stay after years of living out of packed suitcases.

What you really have- is an obsession
What I have- is the joy of being found sexy and interesting.
You have just discovered that band at sixteen and the possibility of all it brings into
your world. A map of a world full of new continents you haven’t yet seen.
Alone- I know you will make me anything. I have lived in fantasy long enough to know when reality doesn’t fit, you create an alternate reality that makes room for any desire to exist.

What you do- is wait up until I’m home.
What I do- is head to another bar and drink myself confident and flirt.
You text me as I stare into the eyes of a bartender flirting subtly with me.
Alone- The bartender wants me as much as she wants to occupy herself until bar time, and you want me to feel a slight pressure to feel alive again.

What you can’t see- is the seven years sleeping in the bedroom as you text me.
What I can’t be- is your lover, your rescuer.
You need me like a hungry woman needs a ripe vegetable after months of searching through rotted crops.
Alone- I want the bartender to see the endless texts, proving I’m something people want.

What you won’t say- is you want in my pants
What I won’t admit- is I wouldn’t stop it.
You compromise my sense of self-respect and responsibility to my fellow men.
Alone- I can’t stop secretly indulging in how much you want me (I let myself be the chocolate in your fantasies), knowing as a diabetic, how dangerous sugar can be my body.

You call- way before I’m home.
It’s ok- because right now your infatuation is what keeps the asylum inside me operating.
You somehow have beaten down the walls of deep insecurity
Alone- Your voice takes me home to a place I’ve never lived.

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