Mr Somebody

When I first met you I felt as though Mr. Somebody had arrived,

you opened a window.  My lungs greeted the air, a lucid

fluctuation of fresh breath. I told you so and we would make

poetry and give words like jewels to decorate my days and they

would flutter into the night like drunken fireflies.

We wandered into the tattoo parlor at 2am on a Tuesday. I had a

compass put on my ankle and you said I was like a Sunflower in

an old folk’s home, that I meant something to people on a daily

basis. It was then I dove into your oceanic eyes, two pools of

the pacific and I had no idea of the depth.  I had no idea I was

about to get so lost. My compass Tattoo a scar that leaves no

room for regret but finds me in the Doctor’s office asking, why

can’t I find my way?

I lived with you Mr. Marine for ten months. I saw the death in

your eyes and you saw mine and we were mirrors of a fantasy. All

the colors of paradise are now held in circles on my skin. We

wanted to be Saviors but no amount of prayers could be an answer

to hands when words and objects are thrown across the room.

I wanted to shield you from the carnivorous wind and said I

would rather burn myself out trying to keep our light aflame.

But the winds took my meat and my wick is now ash and

all fragrance of the flowers bought, of incense burnt, became

smoke. Smoke spirals over broken heads with no place left to


I walk the sanity tight rope through the temples of my head. My

tattoo compass leaves no constellation only stars lost to the

blind of day. I don’t know where you are – locked with me in our

corners of the world. I want to call to you without sound or

message – only to call to you from my corner. Sat here with

smokes and ghosts and thinking I see your car knowing you may as

well be on the moon and I should be happy to leave you there. I

am lassoed in a different orbit. My swollen wrist has just

settled but your finger marks are still there, they are a

testament to a lesson I lesson with tears and thoughts of you.

Through your gentle holograph of arms, I fell and fell because

it made me feel alive. To stay with you would have been the

death of me, or so it seems but the line is a blur

all I see are funeral plumes and the clouds are shrouds to my world.

I feel I drowned in your tender tidal waves. A refugee in my own

skin on my raft in the expanse and my dog is the only one there.

Another day in the life of crazy and I submit to the seconds as

they find me looking into the distance, wishing I was there. As

though a mirror shattered and fell and I look down at the

fragments and wonder how to piece together the reflections of

mind, body and heart. They say time will heal and time is all

that is left. I lost my books. I lost my love. They say I am

free now, but freedom is a state of mind and comes at a price.

And so I put this on my blog, I read it at a cafe because if you

can hear me, and others can read it too, maybe I can borrow their

eyes to see myself again?


5 Comments on “Mr Somebody”

  1. wayfaringthoughts says:

    This may sound mellow dramatic, but a break up is basically a death. It’s the death of a relationship and must be mourned in order to heal. The thing to remember is that eventually we can recover from this loss. But we could never recover from the loss of ourselves. The best relationship we can ever hope to have, is the one within us.

    Beautifully written, and I hope everything works out well for you.

  2. Wow. Very cool…thanks for posting this!


  3. yourLorialways says:

    I have, and always will, Love You. When you need me, my ears and my eyes, like temples at your idolatry will be there, to help bare you through the times you struggle with and to help laugh you through the times in which you sail. Your own personal gust of wind. If you need me, your voice will never be needed, for as we have always known, We two, are interconnected. Your have been my compass, when I have had no home. It was your needle that guided me home. Mine does for you now. I point in which ever direction pleases you. For right now, all that is and matters is you. And i am proud.

  4. mummy says:

    This too will pass my sweet girl. And remember when you rise from these ashes, you will be stronger. You WILL feel better and you WILL be OK. I wish I was there to hold your hand. I will be soon I promise. In the meantime, cry, shout, yell, punch the pillow (and pretend it’s his head). It’s the death of a precious chapter. It’s not the death of the book. I am sending you a big hug, and carry you in my heart every day.

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