Many Names

The nicknames are countless. He has one for when my appetite is out of control: Bertha (in Spanish). He has one when I get feisty and my comebacks are great, even and especially when they fall on a Monday: Idis. He has one when I share tidbits of wisdom: Grasshopper. But when he calls me Erika… he says it when he knows I’m holding back myself from him, after he says goodbye, and when he sighs after laughing at something I said or did, “Oh Erika.”Or sometimes when his mind wanders to when he left his touch all over me. My favorite is when I call him early in the morning (cause he’s dead asleep in the middle of the night), his voice is raspy, “Hi Erika.” He’s open to me. He’s open to me at 7am in the morning, when I can’t go back to sleep. It gives me hope to when he’ll call me “babe.”

In the Next Lifetime.

I waited outside as everyone walked in. In a soft pink dress with a ruffled neckline. Loose curls. Happy Birthday, Erika, they said. Thank you. I said in a glance. I was outside waiting for you, I’d been waiting. I’ve told you I would wait. You didn’t ask, but I still did. You didn’t even say you were coming.

As I turned to walk in, I thought I saw you. Held my heart and inhaled. It wasn’t you, it was him. A grey cardigan instead of a grey hoodie. I took soft steps downstairs. Happy Birthday, Erika, he said. Thank you, I said. I looked at him and saw your face. I grabbed underneath his arm, closed my eyes to  feather the soft space on your underarm, one more time. Opening to blue eyes inviting me for a swim. With or without a life jacket, I couldn’t. I’d drown in yours already.

He opened his arms. I stood still. He took two steps forward and wrapped his arms around me. Are you happy? It’s your birthday, he said. He didn’t smell like Old Spice, and the outline of his jaw was smoother than yours.

For the moment where I laid my chin on his shoulder, I prayed that it was you, and that you’d feel like a second chance. Cause maybe this time, I won’t be fearful. I won’t be careless. I will kiss a little longer. I won’t reach out before you’d pull away, before you’d fear my disappearance. We’d define our soft touches between us, not leaving words unspoken,  diminishing any space of misconception.

You were drifting when I was falling.

I couldn’t believe you when you offered me a key, when you invited me to go bowling with your brothers, when you told me you’d wish I kissed you longer before I got on the train. It was too soon. I still walked with you, but left words of love unspoken. Fearful that it would stay a dream, fearful of falling if I took too big of a step. I wanted to unveil, to unravel before you, to be gentle,  to be chivalrous, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t be her, be myself, be that, when you would lay your head underneath my collar bone, when you’d intertwine your toes with mine. Until I couldn’t feel you next to me. I didn’t know how it felt to be loved. I didn’t know any type of love other than what had been taken from me before you.

And now you can’t even admit that you fell when I tell you I fell in love. Maybe we can be extraordinary tomorrow in the next lifetime.

dimples

I would lay on my bare mattress, bare myself, feet against the wall, smiling at the thought of us. The taste of your kiss still lingers on my lips. The traces of your touch are luminous. I miss  dreaming of wearing the yellow dress while dancing on your tippy toes. I can still feel the roughness of your jeans against my legs, as if just yesterday you wrapped your legs around mine at the diner. I’ve never felt safer than within your two arms and  the four walls of your place.

Till this day, a simple hello  births a handful of butterflies. Till this day, I must use both hands to cover up the smile that springs up as your name does. It’s the only time my dimples appear. Till this day, I’m still in love with you.

“I know you haven’t made your mind up yet, but I would never do you wrong… no doubt in my mind is where you belong”

the one before

He tells her he misses her… I count down to when she will turn to me and ask me if its she he really misses or does he really miss the one before. I tell her its both of them he misses. She turns back around and tells me to tighten the blindfold. I do what she says, I can’t provide as much warmth as the comfort she’s wrapped herself with. Her past is repeating itself in front of her, and all she can do is ask me to tighten the grip.

She texts him good night… she awaits till he reciprocates her midnight wishes. The countdown starts. She turns to me, I pull out my hand and whisper, “just stop, you deserve someone to love you, and only you, not to just be with you because he doesn’t want to hurt you,” but the light of her phone distracts her. “Good night.”

She wakes up in a sweat. A nightmare has her in my arms. Her tears stroll down my shoulder. She dreams of herself and him, she dreams of his touch, she dreams of him filling her with every inch of him he can give. While they’re wrapped up in between his sheets, he calls out the name of the one before.

He’s keeping two loves to himself. Two lives, two loves. He lays both to sleep with the same words. He holds her without touch, he keeps her near even when states away. He won’t choose, he doesn’t need to because she’s not going anywhere.

She too has two lives, two loves. She won’t admit that he tells her what she wishes the one before would still tell her. And unlike the one before, she can hear his voice when she awakes, without the limitations that dream’s outer lining forces. He cradles her fragilty and vulnerability as the one before did. They’re becoming everything she aspired to become with the one before. He acts on the other’s unspoken words. He places the flowers in her open hands when she wakes up from saying goodbye to the one before. She won’t let him go, cause she needs to be chained to love, even if the anchor isn’t being held down by the one before.

Dear First Love

March 9, 2009 4:41 AM
Him: “Erika, I know you’re the woman for me. And I know I could be one hell of a man to you”

Dear First Love,

I knew this moment would arrive since the moment I met you, but when you opened the car door I lowered the vale over my eyes and prayed for it to come later than sooner. Its time, to let go, to let myself let go of you. After three years, its time to say good-bye. We’ve grown farther than the states between us. I once feared that if I would let go, if I would turn away for one second, I’d miss your fall. I’ve never missed the ones prior. I waited in vain, for you to see me before you, even when on my knees. I gave you my all; you’ve drained me and left me fragile, left me breathless yet in despair to exhale. I think of you every time I place my hand over my heart. I think of you as my right hand reaches over to squeeze my weakening left arm. I think of the pangs of anger that tightened my heart when the doctor asked what had caused my heart condition. It was more like whom, doctor. I let you break me, and continued to dust off the throne I carried you on. When I would turn away, every man I would pass by was dressed in your mask.

I used to think that if I would stand beside you, if I would wait, if I would give you everything you asked of me, I would be more than the all of me I was giving you. I prayed and pleaded for you to not let me let go of you. I was willing to teach you to love, to show you the way. I waited on the other side of the door just to hear you breathe. It’s where I wanted to be. Even if you didn’t want to speak, I held my breath to await for your sigh, your breath, and a word…the word.

I’ve shrunk you and put you in a little box. Threw in this resentment in, this blame towards myself for falling for a man that you could have been, for a man that was only there in design. This blame towards you for damaging, breaking me, breaking my heart. Threw in this judgment of your potential. Threw in the mirror that used to blame me for your disappearance and disconnection. I will forgive you as I learn to live without you, love without you. The training wheels are off; as am I. Please, don’t keep trying to sell me the same dream, for it’s a nightmare when unwrapped. Please don’t whisper sweet nothings, empty promises. They’re as see through as you are. I will forgive you, time is too short to not do so, this anger will only burden my heart, and I will only have myself to blame. You never intended to hurt me, I know that. I’ve been letting go, baby ant steps, without a plan, and with an unplanned fall for someone else.

Plus I still haven’t really gotten my heart back from the man I’m still in love (or strong like?) with. I haven’t asked for it back yet.

My definition of Love roots from you, its continually changing and grows deeper after you and forgives because of you.

March 17, 2009 12:50 AM
Me: “I want to believe that you miss me and that I’m the woman for you as you’ve been claiming, but I don’t. I can’t. I see no actions for what you claim. I don’t think you will ever prove your care, your love, to myself or even to yourself until I’m actually gone, farther than states away”

Him: “I don’t know what to say…”

Me: “You never do. I haven’t fully let go of you. It’s been three years. I’ve used to hope that one day you’d see me yet you have yet to. I’ve never told a man I loved them ____, I’ve told you. I’ve taken away my own hope to hear it back one day. I’ve held back my own words, my own feelings to spare yours. I can’t anymore. I won’t. I was willing to take you, as you are, imperfections and all. You hardly took the time to see me, let alone really know me. If you really wanted me, you could have had me. Until months ago, until tonight. You’ve always had one foot in and the other foot out. I think it’s my turn for my two feet to take two steps out.”

Its’ been time.

The Heart Of The Matter – India.Arie

Now and Then

Now: I saw you the other night. I grabbed your arm; I caught your smile before you turned towards me. Addictive as before. Addictive as always. I haven’t seen you in months, and we’ve hardly spoken. It may be the smile. You stretch your arms out; I fit perfectly within, as I did months ago.

Then: In front of the F train at 2nd Ave. You told me you considered me one of your closest friends. I didn’t believe you; I grabbed your hands and begged for your unspoken words. You shook your head and said, “I can’t.”

Now: You kiss my cheek; I squeeze your arm as you leave your taste on my skin. Not as sweet as I had dreamed of close to three years ago, yet I smile. You tell me to stay put. I look down, smiling. Seconds pass, minutes pass, I catch your smile at your final step of the stairway. Addictive as before. Addictive as always. I turn away and you’re standing before me. I grab your hand, slightly dancing.

Then: We danced on my birthday; intoxicated I still managed to request one of your favorite songs in order to follow the soles of your shoes on the dance floor.

Now: I take your hand before I leave. You pull me in. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you too. I hug your friend goodbye then turn to you, you grab my hand, and I pull away as I take two steps away. You grab my hand again. I smile and kiss you on your cheek.

Now and Then: I’ve missed you.  But, I’ve actually missed what we can be; the best friends we can be. The lust was lost where it was first shared, the stairs of the F train. I’m truly glad it did.  For, I fell in love with one of your close friends. Still can’t believe myself I say love so freely with him. I wish I could speak to you about it.

I see you and can still hear unspoken words, from both our hearts. One day we will be untangled, fearless of each others’ truth. Sooner than later we will conquer what you claimed before I left. I want us to share our loves, our lives; more than Snapple bottle cap fun facts and my fear over bikes. Sooner than later.

a faint, a locket

Tough week. The woman I love the most told me she doesn’t love herself. I love you, though, do you think you can love someone to much? I asked. Yes, enough to end up not having even half for yourself, she said. Youre beautiful, love yourself, she said. Spoke to her of my heart. How I felt the truth of my heart condition(s) (yes two) through a late night faint. Surgery she suggested. I’m scared, why fix something that isn’t that bad? It’s broken, it’s been broken, only worsening. Thoughts of a dream I had, laying in the hospital bed, he walks in, as he promised, the second person, after her, with a locket necklace. I remember telling him of this dream, he kissed me through the phone. This time last year, he was offering to bring over medicine when I’m ill. Even vapor rub? I asked. Yes, I’ll come right now? he said. This time last year, the rush from his kiss flooded over my heart. This time last year, I hid my broken wing underneath the invisibility of his. This time last year, a part of me forgot I was broken, I held no fear to be fixed. Now, I wont hold a locket in my palms when the day comes, he may not be walking in after her.

“Sorry,” I say

He places his hand over mine. I slide it away. “Sorry,” I say. He looks over to me, tries to lose him in the deepness of my brown eyes. But even on land, I’m drowning in another man’s clear water irises. A kaleidoscope of words he whispers, but grey shades fill the spaces of my senses. I’ve nestled within and locked the door behind me. Even though he who holds the key is nowhere in sight. On the end of my sleeve, dangles my heart. As he leans over, I fold up the edges, of both sleeves, just to be sure.

Without a word, I stand up from my chair. He quickly lifts the black ruffled jacket from behind my chair, opens up his arms. He opens up his arms. The strength of my sigh brushes his feet two steps back. “Sorry,” I say. Maybe I should tell him the truth; of the life I’ve been entrapping myself in. If I’m not here, maybe I shouldn’t really be here. I may not be ready. I’m not ready. I’d cheated on the depth of every apology; I want to apologize for that.

Without a word, even without a thought of the man that stands before me, I still follow the pace of his soles, up to his door. As I unbutton my black ruffled jacket, in his living room, he twirls me. My hands don’t recognize the touch, aren’t touching the hands of the key holder. My hands slowly create distance between both of us. “Sorry,” I say. Without hesitation, he grabs my hand and walks me towards his bed. I part my lips and before the words of the night could spill he says, “Lets dance.”

I lower my head; place both of my hands, overlapping, over my heart. My heart. With immeasurable distance between each step I take towards his door, I grab my ruffled jacket from the side of his couch. “Where are you going?” he says.

I turn around one last time; I say one more time, one last time “Sorry.”

My knees weaken, with every stair step I touch, down the staircase. My mind escapes and leaves me miles ahead: I danced on top of someone else’s feet; his toes once tickled my soles. He opened his arms, every time I saw him. He’d lean over, unfolding his sleeves every day, every night I spent with him. Hurrying up to wait. I threw rocks at the man’s window till he awoke and let me inside. I didn’t say a word; I just wanted to lay near him. He lifted me up and carried me to his bed. He took off my ring. A ring that I thought I lost the other day and almost hyperventilated. He…He…It wasn’t him tonight. No one ever will.

The suede of my boots darkens from fallen tears. My sleeve unfolds and drips.

last night

I pull on the end of your t-shirt, you lean in to kiss me. We inhale. I slide my hand underneathe your t-shirt and rub your stomach as I used too. All the while you run your fingers through my morning after, untamed loose curls, as you used too.

I lift up my arms. You slide off my wife-beater. My hair falls through, hiding my face. You quickly but gently brush my curls to one side of my face. Still I keep my eyes close. Kiss me till your taste opens them. My eyes. Your warmth rushes through me, floods over me, demands all the senses of my senses. My thighs hold you prisoner, never letting you get air. I cant even apologize. I hold your fore-arms with the tightest grasp. Three words slip, my sigh fades. You look up, your lips part and…

I wake up

still

I miss him.terribly. she brought him up tonight in forms of memories. and when I revealed a bit more details of the memories she says, “you guys were intimate, y’all really fell?” I looked and her and replied, “to the verge of those three words”

“he fell Erika…just don’t know what happened next,” she said

“neither do I,” I replied

4 hours later, I see him…in my dreams