Stitches and a Leonard Cohen song
I remember her last words. The million hellos were erased by a midnight good bye. Once we entwined our lives and now in my secret place. A million fingerprints, leftover reminders. I painted on her tender and raw skin, love words. Over and over till they became meaningless. Somehow the love words made her bleed and I had to sewed her-up.
I remember on a liar’s moon, I removed the stitches and I kissed the bluest scars and the wounds reopened. She told me. So cold, I am. I am like a Alaska long Winter. You wasted your fingers and hands on my dead skin. Once you excited my body and mind. You were my 3 am ride, my 3 am company. We tried to fulfill a need always rising and falling like a Winter Pacific storm. I told you, I was a heartache waiting to be born. I did like the writing upon my skin, you made me feel alive and now the echoes and murmurs of love. Killed me off.
I open the secret storage and I release the fingerprints and they cover the walls of the room. I traced the fingerprints with my eyes and I remember her yearning and demanding eyes. She told me once. Take what you need and make me feel good. We are the Summer and the Winter. You damn poets believe love is sweet and I believe in dancing in the pleasure of borrowed kisses and loaned embrace. I will kill the hope in those dancing eyes.
I tried to touch the moving fingerprints on my wall. Each one was a memory stored away deeply and I told the 3 am moon. “I would of live for youI would of died for you.I would of loved you alone andI needed to taste the ambrosia of your skin.You bewitched me on a liar’s moon and you seduced me with honest words.Your wore and torn body, I wanted.You were dangerous sea and lingering hate.I would of loved you without the need of equal kindness.”
Now I collected and gathered the fingerprints. Locked them-up in the storage container. I told the 4 am moon. Damn you my beautiful Susi, you taught me to dance, you taught me to use and use till it is all used up. You show me secret skin and I taught you. Some kindness. I remember you and I know. My Gypsy gal. Her forsaken heart, asleep and stealing more.