Three Beauty Marks

Many Names

threebeautymarks — Sun, 06 Dec 2009 17:08:38 +0000

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.”

What do they call that? BFFs?

threebeautymarks — Tue, 24 Nov 2009 06:45:28 +0000

“Do you want to get pie?” he asked. Shrugged my shoulders. I’m working on patience. We walked out of Olive Garden. In all honesty, I wanted pie there and then, pumpkin cheesecake. I’m working on patience, though. He grabbed me around my waist, shifted my hips to the left of him. He tends to walk on the outside of the sidewalk.

“Literally, I consider you one of my best friends, what do they call that? BFFs?” he asked earlier. I thought about it as we walked, I slowed down my pace. He noticed, asked me if I was getting tired and why I insisted on wearing heels. I wore heels that night, and on Wednesday when we went grocery shopping. I hardly ever wear heels.

Yes, I was getting tired, I was getting tired of wondering what we were, of not knowing myself what I wanted, of pretending to not want to know. We’d kiss good-bye and hello. Nothing in between, beginning and end, other than me.

And now you call me a “BFF.” The in between of the Madonna and the whore. The one that you can be with… later. The one who you can trust, “say everything to,” but whom you don’t trust yourself around. What if it worked out, if it didn’t? If I got distant, if you got distant? So you stay comfortable, and you keep me safe in the inside of the sidewalk.

He’d caught up to my silence. “How do you feel right now? I mean, you’ve never told me what you wanted…”

I hadn’t. I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought ‘what if,’ the time he slept over, woke up to find him inflate the airmatress that kept deflating every hour. I thought ‘what if,’ when he first kissed me good-bye.

I didn’t think beyond ‘what if’ before. My heart wouldn’t let my mind wander further. Giving as a friend before giving as a lover was out of character for me. But with him it feels natural to do so. I want to get to know him; I want him to get to know me, naturally, gradually. Toes in first. Without pressure of being less or more. If he is to save me from the one before, I want him to do it without acknowledgement or intention. I don’t want to get hurt by my own expectations and lack of emotional limitations. And if we do have any, which we of course do, I want both expectations and intentions to collide without human effort or pressure.

Lately, I’ve been thinking ‘what if,’ every time he walks down to the PATH train.

“If that guy in Atlanta, that you’re talking to, would come here and ask you to be with him, right now, what would you say? You’d say yes?” he asked.

I hesitated. I hesitated to sigh, not to say yes. If he knew that “that guy from Atlanta” has pulled my heart back farther than the distance between him and I. If he knew that “that guy from Atlanta” and I have outlined the words of love, but we’ve grown farther from filling in the lines. And that he also considers me a “BFF.” If he knew that “that guy from Atlanta” isn’t even who he should be worried about, it should be me. It should the him that may go with me.

“It’s good to be scared. It means you have something to lose. Something worth fearing to lose.”

But even with saying that, I leave words unspoken. I’m working on patience. I’ll appreciate the in-between phase. Only unseal my lips to kiss hello and good-bye.

Did you call the doctors?

threebeautymarks — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 01:57:54 +0000

Her: Did you call the doctors?
Me: No…
Her: Why not? I’m hanging up. You’re going to call. Then you’re going to call me back.

Her: So?
Me: They said they’ll go over the results on the 30th. But if it was anything bad they would have already called.

Her: That’s good. Erika, that’s good! You should go sky diving. And maybe you can stop being scared and thinking in your head that somethings wrong with you.
Me: But…
Her: No, nothing is wrong with you.

Maybe I want something to be wrong with me. To validate my foolishness. Gives me a reason to not let go. To stay faithful to everyone but me. Wasn’t dependent on anyone when I was younger. Now I’ve even grown fond of the mouse downstairs. Philip. Maybe I want to give him a reason to stay with me cause without it he may not be here.

Philip got caught. I don’t have a tumor. No more excuses, eh?

May I’ve grown too dependent to Love’s fairy dust.

In the Next Lifetime.

threebeautymarks — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 03:25:23 +0000

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.

Between The Lines

threebeautymarks — Sat, 26 Sep 2009 19:09:58 +0000

“I tell myself all the words he surely meant to say
I’ll talk until the conversation doesn’t stay on
Wait for me I’m almost ready
When he meant let go

Leave unsaid unspoken
Eyes wide shut unopened
You and me
Always be
You and me
Always between the lines”

Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow

threebeautymarks — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 02:30:15 +0000

Yesterday, I watched my step when walking up and down the stairs. I don’t want to bruise and scar again. I held on the rail a bit tighter. The stream of tears was deeper.

Today, I claimed myself as a victim of fear. Fear of falling, fear of hurting, fear of dependency, fear of losing him to save myself and fear of losing the woman I dream of being to fear. Today I took off the hope necklace because I realized I need something that doesn’t only lay on my collar bone, but to lay deeper than my flesh, cleanse my spirit and find refuge in my soul. I think its called Faith.

Tomorrow, I’ll pray longer. I’ll look forward. I’ll sing louder. I’ll smile for one minute longer. Tomorrow, I’ll be that woman I dream of. Baby steps.

The end.

threebeautymarks — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 03:43:45 +0000

09/09/09 10:42 pm

Me: Do you still like me? (and no I’m not drinking)

09/09/09 10:43 pm

Him: Yea, why wouldn’t I?

09/09/09 10:59 PM

Me: Actually, I meant as in more than friends. Do you still like me, as more than a friend?

09/09/09 11:08 PM

Him: Just friendly

09/09/09 11:13 PM

Me: Okay

09/09/09 11:33 pm

Me: Well before I stop flooding you with emoness, and finally let go, as you’ve prob have wanted me to, I want to say that I miss you. I’m still foolishly in, strong possibility that it’s “in love.” Yeah, in love with you… I still have hope for us, still believe we could be extraordinary if given the chance and yes, it surprises me as well as to how I can still feel this way after numerous rejections and time… but I do. The end.

09/09/09 11:39

Him: Okay

Fuck Ragu. I love you.

threebeautymarks — Thu, 03 Sep 2009 04:54:19 +0000

I cried today. I couldn’t open the pasta sauce. I don’t know why I bought Ragu, I don’t even like it. But it reminds me of you. I know better. And not being able to open it reminded me of how you’d open it for me. We wouldn’t want to get up from spooning but we were hungry. I’d get up and open your cupboards to Ragu. I’d hurry and boil the water to crawl back underneath you.

Fuck Ragu. I love you.

dimples

threebeautymarks — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 06:44:21 +0000

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

threebeautymarks — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 02:21:38 +0000

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.