Keep Art Alive :: “Surface” :: Art by Aaron Nagel
“I could possibly be fading.
or have something more to gain.
I could feel myself growing colder,
I could feel myself under your fate.”
(#ThrowbackThursday – old writing of mine)
originally written in August 2005
It all rushes back like a sharp hot slap ‘cross the face, the kind of sting that only memory serves up for the taking, leaving no choice but to devour it whole. It was that night prior, that eve of change, as we deemed it; a contract waited, you and I, space saved for each of our names at the bottom. I wanted so much to say no, to whisper it as you pulled me close; let it just be us, but I’d caught sight of your eyes then, so bright with hope, binding my lips tight. I was only ever wanting that spark to stay awhile, only ever wanting to keep you still, and sane.
Not too many days before we’d stood on that bridge, looking down to the below, knocking stones and ash and empty bottles over, watching them all fall down. I talked you off the ledge, promises of anything and everything, even to hold the trigger and point it at you if it was what you really desired. I swore I would do it, to turn all that beauty into splatter and black, I promised it all. But I never could have done it, though, didn’t mean it at all, not a single pleaded word.
And there it sat between us, that chance to keep you going. I thought it all you wanted, more than me, more than us. The pen-prick on that page felt the same as the first hole stuck deep in my arm.
Neither of us were saved. No, it all exploded into brilliance and adoration, then dissipated fast. The crashes crept inside the silences, always hiding just behind-the-door. I blamed you for everything afterward, my insides gone bitter, bleeding out in shards and scuffles, as I scrambled to steal back what I thought mine.
I can’t point anything at you now, not even blame; never said it then, never could. I just keep the pulse going now, each tiny death chasing away that boy you once knew. We take the crowds in like breathing, in and out as if the last, each a step closer to some poet’s end. Perhaps if I could speak without words we could save it, fill in blank space like we used to, twist and weave it all into a song.
But my trade off was this. I took the darkness from you and wrapped it up in my own eyes, and now I see you turn away, barely whispering to me as you turn to go, I can’t even look at you anymore.
Into Dust (live) :: Mazzy Star