March 27, 2007
Hush
I am tied up on train tracks. Inevitability approaches, shaking the world until the vibration seeps into each of my bones. A wine bottle falls off the rail and shatters into pieces. Someone flips a coin and it lands into the broken glass, sending sparks of reflection my way. I am calm. Fate rushes towards me on shaky legs and unties me right before the train arrives. I miss the vibration.
Love’s choked the words out of me. They’re there and not-there, until thoughts become this morning’s fog, shrinking the world into a cocoon. Colours fade and the end of any road becomes invisible. I hold half-finished paintings, one line of two thousand poems, and scribbled ideas around, and they stay this way, unfinished, quivering in anticipation. Soon, I promise them and get distracted by a sound or a daydream.
I watch films about Africa and cry only to walk around with swollen eyes the next day. I worry about hurting him somehow, and not realising it, and make new resolutions each day. But even though my mornings begin in confusion (how is one supposed to switch between the dream-world and alarmclock-reality with ease?), I look forward to them. Maybe we die a little every night, and wake to another beginning. I feel lucky again. He makes me see new colours.