something caught in the throat, like a feather

[foxtongue]

I found out second hand, when you cheated on the girl you were fucking behind my back. She came to me, crying,
and asked what she had done wrong.
She didn't know that we lived together, that you and I spelled a mutual m-i-n-e.
All she knew was that I was her friend.
I considered the satisfaction of throwing your things out the window then,
the meticulous movie moment of exploding chaos, socks spiraling to the street, books flapping their pages like miraculous paper birds attempting futile flight.
I had your childhood pictures and birthday cards from your sister.
Your special keepsakes in a box you had brought with you all the way from Australia, all the way from when you were born.
Perhaps it would be raining, when I did this Hollywood thing, this burst of scripted anger.
Even in August, it rains here a lot.
Your letters would get wet and the ink run in the gutters. Your jeans would soak through and become too heavy to carry.
Enough water and you would have nothing left with to remember your mother.
I thought about these things, and the mess, and the shouting, wondering if it would be satisfying, if I would feel absolved from your crime,
and I whispered a statement to the empty room, claiming it, before saying it to her,
and somehow, to you, rich with disappointment, I am sorry.

And now, once more, a drawer. What's inside? This time I do not know. Clothes, a toothbrush perhaps. It is a mystery contained, hard-edged. A simple pull on the handle and the secret is out, but I do not want to look. The idea makes me flinch. It is terrible how small I am in your absence.

I do not wish to be reminded, nor read again the topography of your things.

Comments

[fluffymcdeath.livejournal.com]

oooo.
aahhhh.
and then oooooo again.

Not too cogent a comment but you strip me to my vowels sometimes.

[mishlai.livejournal.com]

I am sorry, too.

Your writing continues to touch me deeply.

[porphyre.livejournal.com]

Thank you. That's very sweet of you to say.

[gunn.livejournal.com]

Dearest, this is striking. Your writing is beautiful.

[porphyre.livejournal.com]

Thank you, dear. When are we going to see some more writing from you? It's always inspiring.

[gunn.livejournal.com]

Soon. I'm working on putting another piece up on etsy today.

[mallinson.livejournal.com]

Um.... and in addition to the comments on your excellent prose, our condolences?

I'm sorry, darling. Your ice-cream boy stands always at the ready.

[porphyre.livejournal.com]

*purr* You're a dear one, sweetheart, but no worries. I wasn't writing about breaking news.

[givemesodapop.livejournal.com]

I hate to sound callous, but surely it must doth suck to be you.

[breklor.livejournal.com]

Hint: If you feel the need to preface a statement with "I hate to sound callous", maybe don't say it?

[papavic.livejournal.com]

Surely it must suck harder to realize you don't display even a fraction of the abundant character she articulates with such magnificent eloquence and grace.

[bloodykitty.livejournal.com]

um...maybe don't pick on her autistic little brother?

[papavic.livejournal.com]

Surely I suck at accurately assessing family dynamics in the absence of more complete evidence.

[porphyre.livejournal.com]

Or, you know, not attacking people could be thought of as a nice general rule? Possibly?

[papavic.livejournal.com]

surely

[porphyre.livejournal.com]

High five, Robin. Thanks for making me laugh. We should hang out soon.

[givemesodapop.livejournal.com]

I can do any day but saturday and monday evenings. Your call when.

[porphyre.livejournal.com]

Want to meet for lunch downtown? I get an hour midday break.

[givemesodapop.livejournal.com]

Sure. You in town tomorrow?

[porphyre.livejournal.com]

Today, tomorrow, thursday, friday. Pick one! After that, I'll be in Montreal for two weeks.