Desmond Writes

In Portugal, the sweet air fills the night and fills my head with quiet, rosy dreams. My mind should be at ease (the bugs don’t bite) but loneliness keeps creeping back, it seems Through mossy doors, you see where I once stood so proudly with a crown upon my head. He locked those doors— I never thought it would be me who’d have to live among the dead. The concept’s simple, yet I struggle with each shadow lurking in the corner, hushed like my lost words, ripped from me with faux-kiss, My hands, my lungs, my spirits all just crushed. Back home once more, but only to a house, I meet the same slow fate I’ve come to dread. To make it stop, I must open my mouth, but it’s attached no longer to my head.

My fingers numb, but not unlike my heart, try to recall all of the keys to play; And, out of tune, the song’s up and away each time I force myself again to start. For quite some time, I skipped the middle part, though I knew it would take less than a day. Months later, picked it up as if to say, “My fingers bitter, static’s in my heart.” A piece, a song, an album— maybe more. I slowly become more desensitized to raw emotion that I used to feel. It floats between a hobby and a chore, and now I think this maybe isn’t wise. I’ll take what I can get to make this real.

Your writing is so eloquent... where do you find inspiration?

Update:

Were you the first real person I met? I tried on a new life like a wool sweater not ideal, but warm enough. Meeting you made it cashmere. The words we exchanged were meaningless, in the same way that I couldn’t place the details of your face in my mind when I thought again about our conversation. I broke you from your monotony and you made the world around me softer and made my voice grow louder, though everything I said was destined for your ears alone. We both grew, learning more about each other. Maybe all of this went too fast- or too far I suppose I don’t really know what caused my false image of you to snowball. You were always too cold of a person and sure, maybe I was too warm and naive. We didn’t balance out- people don’t balance out And each time I let you down, the sweater unraveled more. Of all people, why were you the one I met? When we fought, you shut me down with just a look. When you’d tell bad jokes, you’d turn my way for approval. Those subtle, fickle glances tore me apart- but I miss them. Take me back to the day I cried in your car. Tiny Dancer came on the radio. We shared that song. We shared many things. We had matching sweaters. I miss you- the friend I once treasured. The person who called me out on all of my flaws, but remembered every detail of my life that I was foolish enough to share. Every bad day that we put each other through was made up for by every time I made you laugh, every time I made you proud- made you brag about me. I held onto these moments when we were apart. In a moment of weakness and blind frustration I told them all I didn’t care about you anymore, that we were the worst two people to put in a room together and that I wouldn’t mind never hearing your voice again. I was wrong. Every shade of blue I see is the color of your eyes. I never should have tried to forget you- my favorite person. We rarely talk anymore, and you act like things aren’t different when we’re apart. You don’t want to take me back into your heart, but they tell me your face still lights up when you see my name appear on the screen of your phone. I know we’ll cross paths again, and I wear my red sweater with pride, showing off how much one person ended up leaving a beautiful mark on my life.

November 8th was the second time I tried. I don’t remember what pushed me to it. I guess I was just sick of being afraid sick of being so tired but never wanting to sleep. I’m not good at being alone. I never was. I tried on November 8th. I supposed I didn’t try all that hard. Maybe deep down I knew it wouldn’t work out. Time passed so strangely like syrup. And I was floating. I considered calling out. Telling someone. I couldn’t bring myself to say more than “I feel weird” They told me they hoped I’d get well soon. He came to get me on November 8th. He forced me to my feet. Forced me to eat. Told me that things didn’t have to be this way. And I hate myself for doing this for trying again. What if he hadn’t come to get me? How selfish of me how foolish. Why should I get to step back into the shadows when others have to carry on and carry the weight of my absence? I’m going to apologize a million times or at least until the word “sorry” leaves my lips numb.

The curtains are falling for the last time But your love- your light he’ll stay with you. The clock ticks on, and it’s time to start this final, grand chapter. You know it’s what he must do. Don’t forget to say goodbye to this mystical man before your eyes. He’s going beyond- no more spotlight but he promises he won’t leave me behind. I want to sing the story of his life.

"A coward

"Like the sheep's eye

"and there's holes in the curtains

"Don't give me more

"In the same gentle way

When you feel invisible Remember that you are a gem Only those who put in effort Deserve your beauty You can't be overlooked The fools who can't see that Are the lowest of the low Suffering from an illness Called incomprehension Don't forget that you are visible Those who cannot see you Are blinded by their own bigotry You are visible to me Goodnight, my gem Stay strong Stay loud You are visible to me

I am in love So open and bright A hundred balloons bursting from my chest And every song I hear Is about you

How uncharacteristic of him How uncharacteristic Lies now becoming more and more twisted In efforts to stand above all others and find someone who cares How uncharacteristic that he wasn’t there When I needed him My energy depleted Defeated, I stared At the door, hoping for a glimpse of his sweater How uncharacteristic We could have been better

It couldn't have been more than two months when I realized I was bored Torn up between two choices leading my brain into a war Marching on and thinking of how I honestly just wanted more I made a wrong move Messed up and got off track Spending nights wondering how I would ever get my life back When was the point when the rights turned to wrongs? When did the voice in my head become more yelling than songs? When did I miss my chance? How did I lose my place? Why do I see not one, but two winding paths on this chase? I'll admit, sometimes I lie but I'd never be a cheater You'd think maybe I would suffer this mental defeat a bit neater Instead of losing my mind and missing a beat Her love may validate me but his is right down the street So when it comes down to all that nonsense Of looks, brains, and brawn My choice is being made by the clawing And fighting of moths from my chest to my mouth As I stumble with the words that are all spilling out Don't be mistaken I don't have any butterflies These moths fly on broken wings of little white lies But to me, he's the sun And like the bugs, maybe I'll die Chasing a light that is never quite what it seems Regardless, at least the sun's there in my dreams