‘the only thing we ever sing are songs of could have been…’

I want that you will remember me as a kitchen dancer and not the mess I am now. I want that you will remember days at the river, feet in the water and sun on our backs, swimming together as little boys chased crawdads. I want that I will remember your sayings (“Simpler than a branch minner”, in particular) and your old faded swim trunks and not that you argued with me over who deserved the last beer, despite that I’d paid for it and lunch. I want that I will remember that while I always paid for it, it should have mattered not. It was unimportant and I gave that too much credence.

I’m leaving now, I cannot stay. I haven’t got the time.

I want that you will be able to look back on it all fondly and not as something now tainted by my late night loneliness induced rambles, sent over a phone line and that I regret in the morning. Always, I regret it. It is an equation, a sad one. I am alone and there is no small boy here to remind me that life is okay, good even, and the house swells and suffers with a feeling of longing. I see that window you broke and repaired so well, having the glass cut to fit. I remember us, what that was then and what that meant. Then. Not now, though. Anxiety plus a three sheets to the wind over-thinker equals an edge that is sharper than a new Case pocketknife. When it’s all multiplied by the lack of closure and a texted “ha ha ha” out of spite, the result is this thing now. I walked for months with my head high. I want that I can get back there again.

Remember me with yellow hair and freckles on my nose.

I want that I will not forget why you’re not here anymore and why we’re not what we used to be. I want to that I will remember that 15 years of friendship can be swiped away in one fell swoop by two people, so much prouder than we ever thought or will ever admit. Too proud to just fucking say I’m sorry. Your sister called us donkeys. She was right.

We never got to end the thing we never could begin.

I want that I will remember that we were comfortable and that it was good once. I want that I will forget sweaty shins and hair curling out from under a Budweiser hat, a beard grown despite an employer forbidding it. I want that you will remember us, in the woods. I want that you will not forget how much you used to love me and I want that you will remember what you felt when you cared enough to get up early, brew that pot of coffee, and leave a note on a paper plate. I love you with all my hearth, you said. You misspelled it but it was good anyway. I want that you will remember that it  all counted for something. That it once wasn’t the shit that it’s all gone to now.

I want that you will know that I am better than this thing that I am now. I want that you will forgive the tears you have not seen, the breakdowns behind a shower curtain and locked doors, all that I hid behind anger when really it wasn’t that at all.

I want that I will remember that this is for the best. I want that I will believe that this was for the best.

Your name is just a noise now, your face is only skin.

**

 

 

The Spring Standards :: Only Skin [mp3]

BUY yellow // gold :: SITE

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