I find myself with eyes adjusted to the blackness of my bedroom. Two a.m. and I am staring at the ceiling, mentally noting where every knot in every plank is located. In case I ever need to remember.
Paralysed limbs laying in a single bed, I feel uncomfortable and lumpy. Pupils the size of a five cent piece thinking,
about you. About maybe and one day and us. Thinking if I could just come over for an afternoon introduce you to fairy bread and brew us a pot of rose-hip tea then perhaps you would fall in love with me and perhaps I would never leave. I could try to teach you something, try to open a new door and show you new colours. I could weave tiny, cotton tapestries to show you.
Thinking I could give up all my ambitions and become a part of your furniture, a piece of your home. Like your life just could not be without me, nor mine without you.
You know, like,
“Please come in. Welcome to my lounge room, here you will find my library, my sofa, my cats, my girl…. Pull up a pew, can I get you a refreshment?”
Because all my thoughts get messy at this time of night.
I am void of all things yet bursting at the seams, overcome with ideas and emotions. See my right arm overextend and snap, see my lips move like jelly where no sound erupts. I blink but that’s about it. I am existentially diluted however vibrant my palette may be.
I am umming and ahhing over the right sentence so I may hit send. I have been scrutinising this paragraph, judging it on tone and appeal, squinting and rubbing my eyes. Sometimes conversation is fluid but not at two thirty-seven in the morning. I need to brush my teeth and get a glass of water. I delete all I have written and settle with “hello dear, I can’t sleep”// it’s two forty-six and I am climbing down the ladder for that drink.
See, off track.
My tangible soul is vying for yours to tangle with its tendrils and ribbons. Both and all sides of me, where my femininity butts up against hard edges and my softness melts into shades of pink, lilac, some faded blue sky. I can be your rainbow but I will dress in shades of mourning.
I have read every word you have ever given meaning to and taken them all to my very core because you engineer and you make language subversive. I have read every work several times over and I know where all your spelling mistakes and grammatical errors are. I have read until my eyes are carmine and watery, both from weeping and eye strain.
It must mean something because I know where you abbreviate. I know your tendencies and provocative analogies, references and sentences that sometimes need reading several times before it cl…cl…clicks and then bang! I am in some other world, some other timezone.
I know you love a good shock factor
and so do I.
Here lay words for you….
You are the greatest poet my heart has ever held
; my ears have ever drank sound from and my soul has ever cherished