Forgotten in Durham
There are glasses for two in the bathroom,
And a towel for you on the sink.
But I lay here, eyes open just staring into the quiet of morning .
While I really should be just sleeping I think.
You left in hurry both days without the same rush to return
After passion and drinks and sexual aggression…
I feel so confused
sinking into white billow pillow sheets, watching the glow of Lavender leaking from the crack of an open bathroom door.
There’s no moment or gesture I can capture of where I went wrong, or said wrong, or did.
But this sick empty churning intensifies...
As the weekend rolls into the end of a dream.
I’ve never been desperate or lonely, never expected that much.
Just hoping for weekend away with conversation kiss and touch from a man who I believe wanted the same.
Your facing the window outside here.
And turning away when I smile.
I wonder if all that we spoke about before is even real. Maybe it is but I’ve made my own interpretations based on misunderstandings.
Like a direct flight to San Fran you eluded to taking this year.
Im waiting for you to be vulnerable, Im trying to connect with your soul.
But the barrier’s thick and your pain isn't budging… I think all the halls have run cold.
Im running it though my mind like a song and trying to find any lyric or note or doubt in our previous exchanges.
Maybe it was always there but I a dreamer with open hearted naivety made up the man I hoped you could be… instead of who u would be...and there's who you should be, a mixture of something in between.
There were subtle warnings, innuendos that linger like a the smell of that beer that oozed of flowering fields of yellow blooms.
”Maybe u wont be happy with a guy from NC. Just a jeans and shirt type of guy, I can do better,” you tell me as if your also trying to convince yourself.
like the steak you say you order medium most days but will change it just for me. Really? Im a picture online and voice when you wake with visions of Lavender honey and whatever girl you've imagined… & that isn't really me.
Just as unclear of who you are, were you unclear of wanting me at all? Is it fair to lead with future pictures of possibility built up hope, knowing the intent is delusive at best? Its just a phone call passing time on a long long work ride home or during your intermission from tv shows watching other people live from a mattress on the floor of a little brick house lonely in Durham. Entertainment, outside a borage of episodic stories and walks with Bukowski alone in the cold.
Don't let my gaze of curiosity from big brown eyes confuse your mind. There are no scattered visions of white dresses or golden brown curly headed children in my head. Im not 26 and believing everything is possible, instead 41 hoping for just, normal.
Trying to get past knowing who are you are, REALLY.Not the comedian with comebacks for every serious word. Or the guy who speaks endlessly in song. No, just something real was all I wanted. You could have said it was too much to ask for. Even if it stung my hopes just a bit. Sometimes this dreamer needs to be pulled down from the clouds and this time I was ready. I need to sometimes taste the bitterness of truth because we all have one wrapped neatly in a cover of our choosing. I have no delusions about a thing but evidently I somehow misjudged just basic attraction. I thought your texts were coated in emotion and genuine longing but instead found them motivated by lonesome, thoughts, calloused hurt, and possible boredom. No real truth to that, just like the caressing of my body, the gaze of sexual desire and hope that I would leave quietly without complaint. Please don't misunderstand the direction of my feelings. It’s not the loss of you or any made up hope concocted in late night conversations that seem to go around like a circle. I don't feel less than what I am or what I will be when your so far from my mind that your name escapes me like these fading bruises on my chest . It’s the subtle gesture of cold and careless disregard that hurt because I feel it's intentional and unnecessary. No fancy hotel or dinner is a consolation for being human. knowing that this was probably something that never should have been but now is makes regret linger even more.My sensuality, emotional transparency and openness was all I had to give to a perfect stranger carved in a daily figure for which I longed to see materialize. I followed though, even in fear and doubt. I drove in the dark at at 2:30 am to a city from my city to make it to you on time. I wondered if I was crazy or stupid silly dumb to go so far. My ego is bruised like my breasts after being marked with a constant reminder of you until they fade away like another sad memory.
