Thursday, June 21, 2012

Not a Total Downer...I Don't Think...

I am about to venture deeper into the restaurant business and will slowly watch as my personal time for writing dwindles. I MUST keep up with writing though. I don't want to wake up one day, dreading restaurant work, due to not having a creative outlet.

Part of the reason I feel so driven right now is because I am consciously exiting a rough patch. I had no idea I could endure emotional turmoil for so long. Well, actually that's not true. I was seriously tortured for 4 years in the most unpleasant relationship I've ever been in. That relationship was like trying to moisturize with a pile of chalk dust (my own personal hell).

There's a poem I wrote's about a relationship that suffers from bad timing (a true epidemic). It is in fact an amalgamation of several different people I've loved over the years. I pulled honest material from different places because the reality is, all failed relationships that meant something, end up having the same result - a sense of loss. The hurt all feels the same. Now, of course the length of time one feels the hurt may vary.

The good news about being hurt is the creativity that can spring directly out of that giant pile of emotional shit. I feel so good when I'm pushed to create something good out of something "bad." At the risk of sounding like an overly optimistic asshole (I could feel differently at some point tomorrow...or in an hour), I'm happy to feel pain so that I can be moved to do something worth while. Why must I wait to be in so much pain before I'll DO SOMETHING?! FU FU FU.

Okay, here's the poem:

A Letter to a Broken Heart

You said to me
“If we all held flowers in
the pocket of our breast,
our flowers would be the same:
purple and green carnations,
reflecting the way
we see the world.”

I responded honestly
and said, “I don’t care
for carnation flowers.
They’re cheap, the petals
unevenly cut – too imperfect
for a love like ours.”

You laughed because you
know my mother and I don’t speak
and I’m unable to hold my heart
in one piece – a sieve
that discards the good.
So you did the moonwalk and
we were embarrassed
because we kissed
to Springsteen’s I’m On Fire.

Then you said,
No matter what happens,
I hope we continue to
feel this glow, and
not lose sight of each other’s
brilliance (and our own).”
I thought this meant you
loved me, that you would
(carry me in your heart),
the way Cummings carried his
darling’s heart in his.

The last night we shared a smoke,
our last smoke because it
was time to quit,
you told me about her apologies
how sorry she was, how sorry you are.
I held you anyway because
you weren’t just my love,
but you were also my dear friend.

I know you feel the way I feel,
the only difference is
I do (carry your heart in mine)
and it’s too heavy,
so heavy my heart
it breaks.



No comments:

Post a Comment