Beyond Me, Beyond You

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Lying in bed thinking about past relationships, I squirm at the mistakes that were made. There are so many it’s almost impossible to remember each one. And where am I now? Still in my dead-end job with dreams of making it as a writer. Looking through the blinds at the stars wondering what will become of my efforts, a pain in my left arm snakes its way up to my shoulder. It’s a heart-attack, and I’m going to die in the middle of the night. I just know it. No goodbyes. No published works. Closing my eyes, I see church spires struck by lightning before impaling worshippers below. I see asteroids circling the prehistoric earth as the place where we first made love waits patiently for our return. Beneath the seas and under so many layers of rock, there are emotions and feelings buried so deep they never get to see the light of day until it’s too late. What became of our love and all those moments the world never got to glimpse? Where did our smiles go, the ones we shared in the lonely hours just like these? Turning on my side, the guilt becomes too much, and I’m forced to get up. Rolling a cigarette and smoking in the dark, I beg forgiveness for all of my failures, but still they won’t leave, nor will the echoes of so many wasted days. In the bars and clubs of places long since left behind, I can feel how things used to be. In the cool air that blew through her hair as we walked hand in hand to a waiting taxi, I can see the future in her eyes. But it was never meant for me. In a bus station that once knew my face, a strange sensation grips my younger self, but before he knows what it is, she grabs his hand and pulls him close.

14 replies »

  1. sometimes we just assume all will be okay, ultimately and we carry on, pushing on through, rinse & repeat… guilt can be a good thing, but don’t dwell on it. we all do what feels right at the time, mostly… don’t we? we are human. we all just do what we can.

    • Your words are all too true. I guess the trick is to find the right balance. Be introspective, but don’t get dragged down. Be open to guilt, but know what’s done can’t be undone. It’s a fine line, but one that can hopefully be achieved x

  2. The title reeled me in, the words spat me out, and reguritated thought in a fierce ocean. You ask and answer the questions of this era, are we going to be okay? What if we assume we are and then we’re not? Those are the questions of the soul, they ache to be expressed and explained, but they probably never will – so we – the ferryman – take the devil’s coin – and pass ever more toward elucidation. Lovely work my friend

    • Thank you, Candice. That’s the million dollar question; and do any of us have the answer? I don’t think so, and anyone who claims to be in possession of one is most likely lying. I personally think the closest we’ll get is just being aware of the question. So many never ask why, they merely exist. And so many seek to find solutions in all the wrong places x

      • What worries me is when people cease looking, cease caring, that really bothers me, I am drawn to writers who write about still searching EVEN if it seems impossible, damnable and painful. You write in that vein and that is why your writing (among other reasons) is just so very powerful my friend. As you so rightly say, being aware of the question, even knowing to ask it. Speaks volumes.

      • I can understand why people give up, and I can understand why they would choose to close their eyes. God knows, if I could, I would too, but that’s never going to happen. And so it’s about giving a voice to the voiceless; about preaching the virtues of beauty and of tenderness in a world that adores apathy. We speak and we sing in hope that others will hear us and raise their voices also x

      • At least you say it’s never going to happen. I cannot say it is never going to happen – I can say like you, I can see why people do. I agree, giving a voice to the voiceless is exactly what you do and what I sometimes try to do. The world does adore apathy – disgusting isn’t it? Or the facile notion of beauty without really understanding it. You’re right, that’s a poets job.

      • If you were to ever give up writing, then I will give up. So now you have no option but to always write. I don’t usually make threats, but I think this one is warranted 😉 It’s clear from all the feedback your poetry receives that your voice speaks to many, many people. I can’t deny that I’m attracted to surface level beauty, I’m just a man after all. But the older I get, the more it leaves me feeling cold. Beneath is what interests and attracts me most, and the harder we look for it, the more we’re consumed x

      • You’d be a lier if you said you weren’t and I’d be a lier if I said that it’s not human nature to be attracted to surface beauty else why do women have the same experiences? But that said, maybe the woman being more pragmatic or just different, can see beyond looks a little more than a man, but what does that bequeath her? A fat hideous husband? Oh that’s progress! I would say that it’s not even wrong to be attracted to the way a person looks it’s in our DNA and the only sad part is if you are a minger and nobody loves you, but even then, there are fixes 😉 Now I’m just being cruel 😉 For you my friend since you are the seducer of hearts and words you’d have to bed some lovelies or the record would scratch with question marks – and as for threats well I quite like them especially on days of huge storms like this, it is as if you are bringing Thors hammer with your words! I shall exist to encourage you among other things to keep writing and ditto. That’s just how we roll brother.

  3. Every now and then I get a twinge, like a back spasm when you take a misstep, and I remember something that I should apologise for. Sometimes I fantasise about a mass reunion of everyone I’ve ever met, sending out invitations with my top three worst crimes against them (forgotten or remembered) so I can prepare my apologies.

    But I suppose one has to be careful. Charging into the life of someone you haven’t seen in ten years, profusely apologising for fingering them so vigourously that you accidentally made them bleed, in front of a husband and a pair of confused kids is likely to do even more damage… if you’ll excuse the phrase.

    • Confessions like that would do no good. No good at all. I know what you mean, though. Over the years, I’ve been tempted to explain my actions to old friends and lovers, but have always held back. Even quite recently, I was tempted to get in contact with Sophie and say sorry for my behaviour back when we dated, but I genuinely doubt she would even care. I mean, it was so long ago, it probably doesn’t mean anything to her now, but it still eats away at me. I guess it goes with the territory.

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