Fantasize

Often with a pair of headphones on, I will sit in this room listening to oft-melancholic music. Strange for someone that has been referred to as having accomplished so much and revered for both my so-called patience and calmness. I’m not sure whether my time spent gathering knowledge has been an endeavor well sought or if I have simply only created leeway in which others may possibly benefit from my insights, none of my time is ever saved in this process [by the way]. This is probably pretty confusing so far and I apologize insincerely for that. Most things I find beautiful are misconstrued and for that reason I ask that you wait a moment and allow the nature of this structure to simply settle.

Right. Here’s the thing, I don’t even know you but I can already say that I don’t love you anymore. Don’t be hurt though, when was it that I loved you anyways, right?

Wrong. I think you know when. From the very beginning I heard you take a breath, inhale and then exhale very quietly and I was wondering if you were at peace. With a breath that shallow could I ever love you? I wondered. Strangely, when I asked if you were at peace the breadth of your lungs seemed to expand with new depth and dimension, that’s when I saw all the room left. Such an immense capacity you have and that’s when I thought you could surely hold me there too. It was then, I’m sure of it. You were with me from the very beginning, almost startling.

So why don’t I love you anymore? That’s a good question. See it’s just a feeling. Like the hair at the very beginning of its follicle, the root of the problem. It’s that stiff-end that you brush through and even if you shave it all off it will still grow just a little, wax and shine it if you must but really, it will always come back just a little even if you tried all the aforementioned. Yes, I think that is a good way to analogize it, it will always be there. Words can be elongated into elegant sentences, humorous and catchy, you can grow them out but somehow never erase them completely and that is the very crux of this automaton relation that we are forming. I don’t want to always just be there. I wanted something… a little longer, you know? Maybe you don’t. Dreams are often fleeting and when I dreamt of your heart I could see your face. Now I’m the shallow one, a second so fulfilling is a long time after all.

I know, maybe you love me too. It’s hard to say what love is exactly. Sometimes I think it’s just when my heart beats a little faster or I start to feel a bit anxious. Sometimes I tap my foot rapidly but don’t tell anybody. In case you don’t drink coffee, that’s what it feels like when you have really good coffee. If you’re ever in town would you care for a cup? This time I’m being sincere. I don’t love you anymore so it’s just not like that and I think that makes for really good conversation. I already know that I am going to love speaking with you because words can be hurtful and bring tears to my eyes, so even if you choose to say those kinds of things, they’re just words. At least empty words, they don’t mean anything because I’m still lying and anything of an untrue nature simply doesn’t exist. That’s probably why I say maybe so often because it may be that. Dreams are just that aren’t they?

What did I mean by that? Well… that’s a not-so good kind of question about being fanciful and misleading. I’m going to be very serious now. You are — hard. Anatomically you are simply a wondrous design, to be alive and perhaps not so well, difficult at times and it’s really you that puts the meaning behind every word you say. When I dreamt of you, we were just talking casually but each second longer was additive to just how profound the same things you repeated became until I could really hear your voice. The expressions stopped being mismatched with the vocals proceeding and when I could see you, that was beautiful. The color in your face reflected the laughter, disapproval and suffocation of such words from me to you. I couldn’t help but smile and think, isn’t this wonderful? You and I, having this conversation about whether or not we loved each other and yet we don’t even know one another. So tell me, could it be that love exists or it just words and make-believe?

© The Sad Owl

The Night Sky

I cannot say that I am not jealous

You spoke softly in my ear

The same words that you whispered

Onto the palette you held

Beautiful and succinct

Creating color

Clear but divided

In multiplicity

But qualities of your features

Unknown to many slipped through in your words

You colored the sky in strokes of purple and pink, skewering it with wavy fuchsia

Dashing green aura and fire yellow, only to end in blue

Sitting on the edge of a crescent moon where no one could sit beside you

Humming peacefully, yet playfully as you dabbed darker shades

I continued to watch you through the frame of this picture

However did you get inside?

You painted the universe behind a night sky

And looked to me and smiled

Cocked head and devious grin

All the stars still left in your eyes

Shining so brightly, magnificently blinding

I could not look away

You took your brush one last time with a final dab of blue

You gently brushed the tip of my nose to let me know it was the smell of ink

You no longer held a brush but just a pen

Holding a finger to your lips

You wrote three words that read,

“Don’t be jealous”

But they said, “I love you

And in that moment I knew

That no eyes would ever see the universe of you

Covered behind the night sky of navy blue

Only I, would get to love you too

The night sky for all to see but an entire universe just for

me.