Island / Statue / Bird / Woman

I’ve been having a hard time remembering the words to songs I used to know — it’s the same way with people and places I’ve wanted to go back to.

The older I get, the more things slip through my fingers. I don’t have the tenacity of a nineteen year old anymore. I can’t keep on breaking my own heart over gone, or forgotten. I spent a century being an island, a little bit longer being a marble statue — I spent several years after that being different kinds of birds.

Anything to avoid being a woman.

Because I didn’t want the spill. I didn’t want the hurt or heal. I wanted time to stand still. I wanted to keep things that couldn’t be kept, and I wanted people to hold me the same. But it’s not so bad here — hips and heart and change — it’s not so hard.

I let it go, all those things that wanted to be let go of — I don’t think of it as losing anymore; instead I tell myself I am being respectful to the small glory of my hands. Only the best for them.

Only the true.

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3 comments
  1. I hear so much Bukowski in your voice. I love it.

    How long have you been writing?

    (By the way I am about to post a new bit as well– shameless plug..sorry 😐 haha)

    • Damn, any compliment that has the word Bukowski in it makes me blush.
      I’ve been writing since I was in the seventh grade — so probably like 12? Of course, it was all terrible so I’m not sure how much that counts.
      (No worries. Plug away. I’ll have to check it out!)

      • You’re welcome! I hear the influence!

        And I’m sure we would both like to admit that we haven’t even started writing yet..maybe tomorrow, right?

        …hmph.

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