Classmates, Lovers, Strangers

_{(Credit: Author)}

Inspired by Jeff Buckley’s “Lover, You Should’ve Come Over.”

This place has always been my home,
It only became yours far later, and for a much briefer time. 
And yet, you carved yourself into every corner.
Even in your absence, I still feel your grooves and edges
Marking every café and streetlight in my hometown.
A portrait in negative space of a freckled firecracker,
A hurricane which blew through leaving ghosts in her wake.

Your eyes bore rings of sunshine.
Your kiss carried fire that made the winter bearable.
You were a patch of flowers amidst the ice,
A summertime lover I found in the middle of the cold.
Then the ice melted and plunged me into the river,
Washing up somewhere between agony and apathy.
Exactly nine weeks and one day.
February’s chill was my safe harbor,
But April’s flowers adorned a fallen heart.

You chased me with such passion and intention,
The least you could do was stay longer.
You smothered us in the cradle,
Dropped me twisting in the wind so fast
We never got the chance to spread our wings,
And see how far we’d carry each other.

And so I prayed.
I prayed for the first time in a long time,
Begging the universe to break its rules just this once,
Just for me,
Just because you were special. 
Instead, you came to me in my dreams once more.
Unlike the prophecy of our first encounter,
This time I could never quite reach you.
I broadcast my heart on my sleeve for the whole world to hear,
But you remained just barely out of range.

I kept every message we ever sent.
But it’s the whispers that slipped away.
Each word that crept out in hushed tones,
Coupled with adoring eyes and bashful grins
As accoutrements to tight embraces,
With scents intermingling and hearts alight.
Those gentle declarations of love,
Poured sickly sweet syrup into wine glasses, 
Sipped slowly in the fading lights of winter nights,
Where they are much easier to mistake for dreams,
And turn to shapeless smoke at the edge of view when we wake.

Our memories are bled dry into poems and novels and essays, 
Making mountains of words to break up the winds of your hurricane.
So that every recollection which slips my mind never takes any of you.
You’re safely locked away in art too painful to look at. 
You gave me my best material by walking away,
And still I’d trade all of it for you to come back.
Without hesitation.

Dare I wish we could sing together again, 
Or I could read more words you wrote for me. 
My camera still aches for you,
My favorite model and greatest muse. 
I couldn’t comprehend why no one saw you as I did,
This wonderfully flawed magnificent mess. 
I still wish I could kiss every one of your scars and blemishes 
Because I still think they’re why I found you so fucking beautiful.

I would have gone to war for you.
I would have conquered the galaxy
Because you liked the way the stars twinkle at night.
I never hated you; I was just furious with you.
I laid my heart bare for you to see,
But you were shadows, smoke, and mirrors.
I wish you had made yourself less of a mystery.

My heart still skips a beat when I relive that winter,
Thinking back to the days spent in your bed listening to music
Or making love with open windows and the sweet smell of your incense burning,
Or making pancakes in my childhood kitchen while dancing to music.
I got a taste, a tease, of the home life I hoped we’d have.
All these years later, I still wake up some mornings thinking of you.
Chest choked by the weight of my failures,
And eyes on the razor’s edge of too familiar tears,
Constrained by the weight of wishing you were there beside me.
On my weaker days, I still want you to be the mother of my children.

You fell in love with me when I couldn’t love you the right way.
The great regret as the years make their mark on my mind,
And time carves lessons into my soul,
Is that I was not yet ready for something real.
Had I only reckoned with some of my own demons,
I might have been strong enough to help fight yours.

I have written epics by the lingering light of your star,
Far more artfully than I did back when you’d read my musings.
I cherish those sparks which lit the unforgiving winter nights,
But memories of the sun don’t keep you dry in a monsoon.
Classmates, lovers, strangers.
Nobody read my pages like you.
I love you, you glorious hurricane.