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Saturday, July 28, 2012

Heart shaped




    She has finally moved Her things. For the last seven or eight months Her stuff has filled my second living room. It is a bitter sweet thing this Her moving her stuff out. On one hand I have my home, and it is no longer in limbo. On the other it symbolizes another nail in the coffin of our life together.
    There She sat, two rows of seats in front of me. She was wearing a sweatshirt, University of Idaho on the front I think, and a pair of sweats. From behind Her thick curly hair looked a bit wild, dirty blond. I think I had seen her before that, but I am not sure. At one point She got up to get a cup of coffee or to go to the bathroom, and my world stopped. She had to have been one of the most beautiful creatures I had ever seen.
     Others may argue with me about that, but I don’t care, that was how I felt at the time, and at times I still feel that way. She has the most amazingly blue eyes, the kind of eyes people have killed over. And she surely is cute, a petite thing, with a perfect smile.
    A few days went by without seeing Her, then I saw Her again…At the time I was dating a real nice girl named Erin, and I wasn’t looking for anyone else. But still, She struck me and struck hard! On that night She was lamenting about how hard her life was, and being the kind and compassionate person I was I pointed out that usually the problems I have are caused by me…nice aren’t I? I was an arrogant prick, but what I said was true.
    My first impression was that She took my breath away…Hers was wishing that I had never had a first breath. I laugh at that now, how young I was, not just in years, but emotionally young. The funny thing is I can still smell the room, feel the chair under me, and I remember exactly where we sat in relation to each other. In fact every time I go to that room I remember that night, those two nights. The last nine years of my life started on those two nights, for good, and bad.



Hart shaped
 
Walking from THE dream
Like some ass backwards
Nightmare on Elm Street
THE dream can be a fickle thing
Leaving heart shaped craters
Where memories used to be
Sliced up ribbons of soul flesh
Cancerous lesions overwhelm
The natural feel of the love that was
THE dream

Chris McQueeney    7/24/12    9:52 P.M.

11 comments:

Ben Ditty said...

You are a true artist, my friend. Did you draw the picture?

Wander said...

Just with words...
Lol Ben I wish I could draw like that, maybe I could if I worked at it for years:-)

kj said...

Damn that love is not enough (sometimes)

So you (the narrator) will keep loving her. I think it works that way if you let it. The upswing of that is that wouldn't all love accumulate, and in time the memories don't hurt in the same way.

But killing love because it can't be given or received. I don't see you (the narrator) doing that. I think you (he) will write about it and every ache and hollow question will see to it that you write like this

Love love
kj

Susie Clevenger said...

Leaving heart shaped craters where memories used to be...that is so powerful. There is nothing that compares with heartbreak. We dream the dream and pray it doesn't become out nightmare. Great piece!!

Brian Miller said...

raw and real man...you capture the pain but still the wonder at what was...that you remember everything of the moment the smell the feel is a testament to the power of it....feel the emotions in your words...

hope you are feeling better as well man...

christopher said...

Sadly, this whole thing is all too real. My heart breaks with yours and has all along. I was taught to breathe and bathe, to keep the bar across my lap in the roller coaster ride and as kj says, to keep the love safe no matter what.

The small ones need it of you and always will. Even if they were not a part of this, I believe you will continue to find as I did that you need the survival of this love for your own sanity. When the time comes, I pray that you can transform the best of it into new hope.

Other Mary said...

Those dream/nightmares are hard to heal from. Still...eventually they say time wounds all heels. Er, no that's not what they say, sorry.

lisa said...

i felt these words chris. like deep down in my gut. i especially love the little poem. love is a dream.

this write made me all dreamy & shit.

She Writes Here Now said...

It's funny how there are these moments that stick with you for years. They're simple ones. Never things you know at the time. It isn't gifts, or holidays, like culture makes us imagine should. No. It's stuff that our brain imprinted and holds as the real moments that something of importance took place in. Internally we know something that is never obvious on the outside and yet our mind catches all the outside stuff it chooses and takes it IN.

My thinking is, a lot of people know a REAL love. The kind that should break your heart if it ends. You do. That's a something to hold.

She Writes said...

I meant to say NOT a lot of people...

I am impatient. Should have read.

Wander said...

Haha I wondered ...but wasn't going to say;-)