I Leave a Trail

The Sweet Serenades – Die Young

My arms aren’t wide enough, I think, as the words crawl across the bedspread and lodge their pincers in my forearms. Little bites that would be indistinguishable from freckles if you didn’t know to look; if you couldn’t see the ink leaking from me like blood. Leeches that drain me, leave me withered, ready to break apart between your fingers. Ready to leave my essence smudged into your fingerprints. Ready for endings, I leave my commas at the door, printing black periods on the soles of my shoes.

I leave a trail.

Orion, you cheated me this time. Every time. Breaking into my heart, leaving muddy prints on the floor. I know you were here, I can smell your scent  in my pillows, I can see your reflection in the mirror. The Hunter. You’ve been rearranging. When I wake up in the night nothing is where it should be. I trip over the lamp and get glass buried into the soft meat of my heels. From my carpet to the bathroom’s white glare.

I leave a trail.

The laughter is hollow. Mouthfuls of frustration that bubble up bubble up bubble up. I could suffocate on the things left unsaid. I could drown in the things that are. I could be a skeleton bird, if you’d let me, if these hands would cease to reach up grasping and drag me back down. I could fly, shedding pieces of bone like hail.

I could leave a trail.

If all the days melted and then re-hardened into today I would hold the sunrise up and shine it on you. I would sculpt you an afternoon in twigs and clay. I would build a fort of all evenings, high in a leafy tree, pluck the constellations from the sky and share them like jelly beans in a bag between us. A milky way of icing sugar in your eyes. The walls made of all the books we need to read and somewhere a song playing that I just can’t place. The hum of a million nights just like this.

An infinite amount of realities lined up next to each other, and me, skipping through the heart of them. Ducking into different lives, new existences, other versions of me. Here, me with a family. There, mind-broken chewing lips on a street corner. A me in a suit, high-powered and rushed. A me in an apron drinking before noon. A me looking up and one looking down. A me that jumped. And somewhere in all of the strings that bend, twisted, mangled into each other, diverge—us. Unencumbered and content. Hearts like half-shadows. Love like the sun. I might curl up there, wrap myself in possibilities. Stay a while. Warm my hands on happiness, just to see what it feels like, just to mark the page.

And then up. And out. And on.

And on.

Because that’s what this me knows. Always with half a heart. Always no direction. Wandering.

On and on.

I leave a trail.

Advertisements

4 thoughts on “I Leave a Trail”

  1. “I could suffocate on the things left unsaid. I could drown in the things that are.”

    “Unencumbered and content. Hearts like half-shadows. Love like the sun. I might curl up there, wrap myself in possibilities. Stay a while. Warm my hands on happiness, just to see what it feels like, just to mark the page.”

    … How do you do it? I could keep copy/pasting but I fear I would run out of space. Out of compliments. Out of time.

    Time. There’s never enough of it.

    My new favorite of favorites, if that’s possible.

  2. Lindsay–

    I love reading your blog. I feel like I should be paying.

    Here’s a strange confession– well, it’s not that strange, actually: I always read your blog at work and, hence, have never once clicked on the video/audio clip that accompanies each entry.

    Am I missing something?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s