Being- Brea

Hello,

That seems too impersonal for us, doesn’t it? It feels as if I should address you as dearest. Because that’s what you were to me, dear. Were there two friends closer than us? We were drawn together by more than just similar music interests and a love for poetry. No, we were together by a shared understanding. It was the understanding of hidden demons and as a result hidden pleas. 

There were times when I was certain we could have read one another’s minds. It was all in a look, a laugh, or a lack thereof and I knew exactly what you were thinking, Just like you did me. But did you know I saw greatness in you? DId I even have the foresight to tell you that? This world needed you. I knew somehow you could bring to it something only you could. I know others' expectations crushed you. So let me clarify I never saw perfection in you, like they did. No. But greatness, yes. 

No matter how loud I shouted, no matter what center I was in, no matter the attention on me, deep down I knew I would fizzle out. I knew I would fall short. But not you, never you. And I loved you for that. I would bask in your shadow for that. I don’t think you ever knew how much I believed in you and maybe that fault is mine… maybe I assumed you knew. For that I am sorry. 

I also need you to know why I will never reach out to you. It isn’t because I don't want to reconcile with you. I do, oh I do. Nothing would make me truly happier than to mend us. To start over. But I respect you too much. You asked me to leave, to give up, and I will be the first , if not the only person to do what you ask of them. I will not let you down by ignoring your request for my own selfish gain. That, that is how much I care for you. You must know that, how much that is. You know better than most what a selfish person I am. You know how I trample on hearts and throw out souls to make myself feel good… but never yours. Never yours. 

You were the first family I ever knew. You were the first family I ever had. And now I worry you may be the only family I’ll ever get. Sometimes I imagine the drive from my home to yours. It was a route I made daily and knew exactly. Now I make myself remember so I don’t forget. I fear if I do forget I will never get back to you or that time I was not alone. 

Writing that now I think that is the first time I ever admitted it, even to myself. I have been alone since we parted ways. Five years of utter loneliness. But more than that, it’s realizing how much I didn’t appreciate our togetherness. But isn’t that the way it always is? You know the old cliche of not knowing what you have until it’s gone. Somewhere among our endless days, our endless laughter, or endless adventures we had our last one, without even realizing it. What a cruel joke. What a cruel truth. Do you think we would have held onto each other longer, tighter, if we knew we would never do it again? I think we would have cried, something we rarely did together. I would have wanted to just look at you, hoping to memorize the person who gave me such reason. 

I know I am not the same person. I doubt you would even recognize me. Sure my face, yes, but my actions… those have changed. Some days I question if they have changed for the better… Now I wonder how much our lives parallel each other? Now since we have grown up and apart how similar can we still be? I think we would still be quite similar. I think not even the two of us could deny destiny. I think we will always be the same person, so perhaps you would recognize me, because it would be recognizing yourself. Some warped part of you that is always there, but slightly off, like looking into a mirror. 

“Annie please come sit back down,” Bailey tried reasoning with her again. This time Annaliese turned around. None of us could really remember how Annaliese made it to the edge of the boat. And none of us could recall how she pulled herself up there, balancing back and forth as the boat bobbed in the water. A huge smile was plastered on her face.The moon spilled onto her shoulders and outlined her red hair as she spoke. It struck me for a moment that she seemed natural up there. Tittering back and forth between us and the water... reality and well something completely unknown.

You were born in fire.

Little Fighter You were born with hands Balled into fist And a cannon in your cry

Little Fighter You must learn to let go Seeing the world through red Is not the same as rose colored glasses

Little Fighter Although your anger Helps hold your backbone Know sinking down is relief 

Little Fighter You have been tough for so long now Do you remember what softness feels like You have shown the world what you can do

Last year in my anthropology class We lectured about race I saw your familiar look I braced for the familiar question Are you mixed? Yes. What color is your dad? White. Then you’re white. You said

You didn’t mean harm  But what you didn’t know Is I had spent years already with this I had walked the chalk line Since birth Being pushed one way or another Into a race  By someone else That needed me to choose Even though I like The middle

What you didn’t know Is I had dated white boys Who told me to wear my hair in a ponytail Because their family didn’t like black girls Rubber band around my strands So tight, it felt like a noose I had been asked by black boys Hey girl, what’s your number And when I say no They go Man, just like a mixed girl My face hot as acid Ashamed as Carolyn Bryant

What you didn’t know Is that in the fifth grade My teacher told me To bubble in either Black or white  Because being other Would give me a lower test score

What you didn’t know Is at the black family reunions My family looks at me like I own slave plantations And when i can’t answer Any question They laugh Naw she too white She don’t know nothin’ bout that

What you didn’t know Is at white family reunions  My southern uncles look at me As if to say get back into the house And when I walk out of earshot They whisper loud Nigger

I am a mix of sugar and spice Skin the color of mocha With a little cream Or so I’ve been told I got that good hair That people think They can just Put their hands in I’ve answered all the questions What are you: Mexican Puerto Rican Hawaiian Italian A really tan white? Oreo Mullato Mutt But I’m just some mixed girl.

She wasn’t listening

As you played the guitar

On stage

In front of people

Un-tuned

A song you’d probably rehearsed

For her

A thousand times

Un-tuned

Swearing it would be better

She moved to the rhythm

She sat in the front

She clapped first

And the loudest

A sound somehow

More melodious than

Your six string

I’ve been there

The captive audience

To a one man band

Different performer

Same gagging

Ankle deep

Requiem

But I’ll tell you something

She,

She is the real show.

The truth is

I still feel the marks on my wrist

And long for them

I still feel the hole you left in my chest

And long for you more

I’m not sure which of those things

Terrifies me most.

The truth is

You were the only person that’s broken my heart

And I will never forgive you for that

You were the only person that’s made me feel so deeply

And I will never forget you for that

Such extremes are not taken lightly.

The truth is 

I think of you every day

By reminding myself you weren’t good enough

I think of you every night

By wishing you had been

Time is starting to blur together in moments of you.

The truth is

You were never good at telling it

I was never good at listening to it

Not when it stained your lips

Not when it screamed in my face

The truth is

You and I were always wrong.

You are not coffee

You are not caramel

You are not mocha

You are not a commodity

Do not let this world consume you.

It is not my fault, I would like to say. I did not decide to live like this. I never wanted to be nestled in greyscale. I never wanted to stare at endless walls hoping for some glimpse of color.  I know you will never know this life. I know you will never understand and I should not expect you to. But don’t you see I have perfected this dance. I am starved for living. You have challenged the man of shadows within me. I have grown up with him. I have grown into him. And as much as I hate to admit it between the two of you I will always chose him.

I fit perfectly in the curves of his body. They are home. He sends shivers up my spine letting me know the cold comes back to push the numb out. He is my oldest friend. I am not blind in his romance. i know he steals from me. Believe me I do. I too see my smile wiped from my face with the tip of his finger. I feel the laughter leave my belly as he taps my shoulder. I watch the light escape my eyes as he whispers. i see, as everyone does, what he does to me. I would love to stop it. Tell him no, but it is not easy to kill the monster you’ve given strength to.

He reminds me if he goes so do I. Besides how could I betray such a friend? And I am sorry. You did not sign up for this. I did not introduce us as a pair. You did not know the packaged deal you were being chained to. Be patient with me. Be patient when I lay awake until I see the sun, I am trying to quiet him. Be patient with me when my smile falters, I am trying to negotiate. Be patient with me as I slither from your embrace, it is him I am trying to shed.

I am sorry sometimes you are left staring at him. I never mean to allow him to take over, to get inside me. I am sorry he holds me hostage. Please understand he was my first. He holds my hand, he kisses my cheek, he keeps me grounded or so he tells me. I am trying. This is not your monster to kill. This is not your heart to break. The man of shadows is my oldest friend and my life long foe. i am still learning to slay him. I am still learning to truly keep him in the shadows. I am still learning to look for light. 

you asked me where are the love poems I wanted to tell you perhaps with the spilled wine left in last night’s bubble bath I watched them swirl down the drain a mix of red and foam. maybe tucked in the cupboard between the nutmeg and cinnamon I saw them sprinkled on top of my hot cocoa and melt away.

you asked me where are the love poems I wanted to tell you perhaps wrapped up in the covers and amongst the six pillows I cuddle with them on rainy days. maybe stitched together with my shadow and tugging on my hand I walk with them in the sunshine.

you asked me where are the love poems I wanted to tell you perhaps underneath the dog ears of my favorite books  I left them behind to protect the pages. maybe with the words I wrote to men who do not read I gave them to others to watch over.

I cannot compare to her blush pink With green hate in my sinew. Her smile connects the freckled dots Of her face Like mapping out constellations. My highway lips lay flat Only giving way to marble  You have loved a Venus.

A warm glow buzzing around you Her laugh, a comforter. I stand a sheeted ghost In a house I’ve never lived in But have always haunted.

You turn full body towards her The position of Old friends or new lovers. I use your back to tally The months you’ve known her.

She knocks my confidence  Off your shoulder. It tumbled to the base of my gut Draining the bathwater from my heart On its way down. I was left choking  On sobs and soap bubbles.

Now feather arms Open up to you. With lights out Strength becomes callous And warmth looks a lot Like security. I should have known  The rigidity of my backbone Was not a place for you to stay.

You remind me that a spoonful of sugar is not a logical way to sweeten medicine.  You live in the spaces of excuses I make for you or perhaps in the inhales between our conversations. I use my own glass to fill you, ignoring  I make myself half empty so you may be half full. 

Today I learned about A woman Who died  By accidentally shooting herself As she reached up To grab her jewelry box From the top of her closet A gun fell down It fired A bullet Hitting her  in the chest I cried Because I knew What it felt like To reach towards beauty And still be reaching When everything ended Due to your own mistake. 

Love sits in the corner swinging her feet, counting ceiling tiles, making a grocery list. We look at her. How could she have lost interest in her creation? For years we had nurtured her, inspired her, grew her, and now... well now nothing. Somewhere along the line, cobwebs grew around her sun beams. Somewhere along the line, smiles gave way to cracked foundations. Somewhere along the line, we became hateful strangers in our bodies. I do not blame you, just as you do not blame me. Perhaps it is Love’s fault. We beg her to fix us, her reliable creation, but instead she counts backwards. 

We moved. We tell ourselves give Love a bigger city, more room to grow. She will like it here. There will be nothing to bore her and then, then she will see we are worth saving. But it is starting to look like we’ve only given Love a smaller, more expensive corner to sit in. Now she watches the second hand of the clock tick. She did invite a guest, Complacency. They sat for hours, sharing secrets at our expense. We had nothing left to do, but watch. Somehow we became our very own failed brake system, a car crash we knew we wouldn’t escape. We now orbit around each other. Yes, a shared universe, but we never collide. Not anymore. Love brings us to bed each night and Complacency tucks us in.

Finally, the day comes. We hold each other. It feels like bones rubbing against one another. There is no heat, just friction. I see how bitter that makes you. We have lost something, neither wants to give up. Complacency sits, a smug look on his face, while Love simply yawns. But we can’t live like this any more. We are left wondering who is going to ask him to leave and would Love leave with him? In a city so big we could lose them both, and never see them again.