Thursday, July 15, 2010

We Live Out of Focus (Pt. 3 'How a Resurrection Really Feels'.)

We lived our winter nights under blankets on your drive way. We counted the stars falling. Oh, and how they fell towards the Earth around us, like vultures searching for carrion. We watched clouds roll above us like waves from some beautiful, deep, black ocean we could never get tired of drowning in.

The ghosts of our pasts, those who'd come and gone and who's time with us was way too short swept through our streets. And we knew one day we'd march side by side with them: it was just a matter of how many more lives we had left.

And what was to never return again? How bittersweet it was to fall in love, and let love leave. The damned deception of dealing with the defeat of a battle scar that no one could see, but those around us could feel.

My father fought the good fight, and died with more honor and dignity than a martyr. Tangled in tubes and wires, machines giving an audible sound of a once fierce beat that forced anyone within a certain radius to dance to a tune that was the cacophony slowly faded away. But it's a song that gets stuck in your head for years. That kind of song that when it gets stuck in your head, you might never remember all the words, but the chorus keeps you going.

And we said goodbye.

But oh, we kept singing!

I cursed, I spat, I drank and never slept. Caught in the undertow I wished for your hand, but couldn't stand to bring you under with me.

Now I lose sleep thinking our best days are behind us. Reviewing photographs in an old shoe box, the color starts to fade. Funny though, I never remembered anything looking this bright before.

I see you through a lens no one else can view. I take pictures that are mortal, but epic. I regret that once those moments were over, I could never taste them again. Only bitter reminders that it's in the past. The future is skewed; we live out of focus.

How I wish for one more avalanche of your strawberry hair cascading me again.

We hit a patch of turbulence, and the girl in front of me lets go of the arm rest completely. She embraces the chaos. I guess you can't kick, scratch, bite, seethe and breathe horrible words aloud. But in the end, you have absolutely no say in your decay.

The lights flicker softly in the plane, and I thank a god I doubt exists for the chance to live in this time. No one can take that away from me.