Keep Art Alive :: “Drained” :: Art by Lori Earley
“Never opened myself this way.
Life is ours,
we live it our way.
All these words I don’t just say,
and nothing else matters.”
Time ticks on, sometimes languidly, sometimes madly, and sometimes without any notice at all. They say that time heals all wounds, but I think they mean just on the surfaces. We heal, most certainly, we get up again, walk again, live this life again, with half-closed smiles, new cracks around our eyes, and a slightly diminished glow of hope on our skin. You have to look close to see, to notice, to recognize the glass pool of nothing that now clouds my eyes, the jaded reality of what has been lost along the way.
I rarely speak of things to anyone, though each pin-pricked confession finds its way into the words I write, sometimes as subtext, sometimes as something more sublime, and sometimes it is a written translation of a scream. Strange how the way the ceiling fan hits my skin can bring it all back, and then I am awakened, pulled roughly out of the soft arms of a dream, and I lie there, frozen, reliving everything on the inside of each fluttering eyelid.
No one wants to hear about it again. They do not want to know that my insides still ache and that a part of me is still sitting there waiting near the shore, sitting on top of the hood of the car, looking out into the collapsing horizon, wishing. It is an old tale to tell, with no answers or resolutions, just loss and that sound of a clock in the distance, floating up into the sky, ever trailing time along. Always is never true. It always ends in the same way, forgotten and left behind, I was never worth the fight, after all.
You could have told me the truth. You could have never told me anything at all.
“So close no matter how far,
couldn’t be much more from the heart.
Forever trusting who we are,
no nothing else matters.”
Nothing Else Matters (live) :: Lissie