My Last Regret

Had I known that was our last night together, I would’ve held my tongue and just held you.  I would’ve kissed your eyelids and brushed your little bangs from your face.  I would’ve listened to every thing you said, knowing I may never hear your voice again.  I would’ve carried you home in whatever angry state, and I would have put you to bed and watched you sleep.

 In the fading glory of our last morning I would’ve told you how you meant everything to me.  How your brilliance, colors my days, how your smile feeds my soul.  How, when our fingers intertwined it was the only time I ever felt truly whole.  I would’ve told you about our children, that I someday hoped we’d have.  And with their little hands and little faces they’d come running to their Momn’Dad.  I would tell you about the big house, with the big dogs, and the big love.   But you already knew our plans. 

In two and a half minutes, I lost two and a half years and everything that lay ahead. I lost my partner, I lost my best friend.  And I am sorry, to have hurt you.  I am sorry to have broken something most precious to your heart.  In that moment, I myself felt broken, and frustrated and lost.  But never as much as I feel now.  

And in your mind I may be hazy and slightly askew.  Please remember:

I am a boy swimming in the bay, with one inner tube and one snorkel to share
I am a boy, on the long plane ride home, with his girl sleeping on his shoulder
I am a boy eating sandwiches on the beach and drinking champagne
I am a boy cooking breakfast for his sleeping love
I am a boy, learning ukelele with his girl along the ocean bluffs 
I am a boy, your confidant, your analyst, your business builder
I am a boy, talking in a high pitched Chinese voice, “Yooouuu knoooowww theeee ooonnneee”

But most of all, 

I am a boy sitting on the side of the road eating malasadas, waiting for his ride to take him home.

Bump it with:

The Guillotine

I imagine this is what the guillotine must feel like.  A sudden *whoosh* and then spine, nerves, tendons, blood vessels, and veins, all disconnected in a single blow.  What once was a vital and integral part of a living breathing creature has been cleaved in two.  But unlike a normal person put to death, both the severed Head and Body decapitated  are expected to live on in their current state.  There is no amicable division of property; no joint custody of organs or blood or nutrients.  So Body, if you we’re expecting to have a pleasant thought today, you’re shit out of luck.  Head, if you were expecting to go for a run, same deal… you lost the legs in the split.  Heh.  That’s funny, I think.  

People give the usual platitudes, how a numerous amount of cold blooded, glassy eyed, creatures in the deep blue ocean somewhere is supposed to somehow give me solace.   Because it’s hard to think about fish, when I don’t have a Head.  It’s hard to think about fish when I don’t know if my Head is resting in someone else’s bed.  

It’s hard to think.  

It’s hard.  

Not to.  


And then I begin to realize, I am not the Body at all.  If I were the Body I could pursue blindly the carnal pleasure of the company of other somebodies.  I could engorge myself on food, I could drown myself in the nectar of drink.  I could  find happiness in activity.  I could go outside and sit in the sunshine, I could splash in the water, I could feel the cold sting of the rain– I could feel anything.  

No, instead I am the Head.   Eyes open, on the pillow, counting every blink and every tick of the clock.  Full of twisting thoughts like a turgid river, constantly shifting and changing in directions.  Closing and opening doors and shutters in my mind, only to find the sharp pain of memories, collected and categorized for some future plans with the Body that simply will not happen.  I am the Head, waking up from fitful sleep in cold sweat clinging to the swiftly tearing edges of a dream where I was running.  Running!  Where there was no jagged scar that went from ear to ear across my throat, no heavy blade that cut me through and through, and I was running, something I had done millions of times but upon waking, I realize– is impossible.

 I am the Head, yet somehow I am full of heartache, though I thought I lost the Heart when the Guillotine hit me, but somehow it too haunts me.  

 So, I think on.