I’m laying here on the couch, alternating between staring at a poorly decorated Christmas tree and out the window. Nature can’t decide if it wants to rain, freezing rain or snow today. The type of weather that is mildly irritating. The truck is slowly icing up and I know I won’t be able to leave the house for days.
Rage Against the Machine is playing on my phone and that’s because it fits my mood perfectly. As is my normal, I’m partially dressed, wearing a knee-length flowing pink skirt and absolutely nothing else. I can’t bring myself to even pull on a pair of underwear or a tank top.
Instead my gaze moves back to the lights and decorations and my thoughts move on to you. I wonder if I’ve crossed your mind as often as you’ve been in mine.
Some time ago, you took up permanent residence there and I haven’t the heart or will-power to take that space back. Perhaps it’s more of a Portishead day. Do I invade your mind and soul? Can you feel me thinking about you? Do you reach down and stroke yourself during those long hours at work and wish for just one day here with me instead?
I may be imperfect in mind and body and perhaps a bit too self-absorbed and moody as fuck but I AM filled with passion and love and an artist’s heart.
In my mind I’ve recreated you a hundred times in every medium possible. There you are in stained glass and globs of oil paint and thin watercolor and a clay sculpture next to a wood-burned piece of driftwood.
No matter which way I look at you, you are a beautiful treasure in my eyes and sadly misused and taken advantage of and I think I’m the only one who sees the Real you. The potential that’s been buried beneath years of misunderstandings and shallow lovers and selfish people.
I can see beneath the layers and layers you’ve gathered about yourself in a feeble yet valiant attempt to protect your heart.
What you don’t understand is that I can see into the other realms and here I stand holding your heart, protecting it with a fierce savageness rivaled by none. I dare Her to come near you again. She’ll find a warrior standing between you and her vindictive viciousness.
My weapon hidden until she least expects it. I will gut her as she attempts to disembowel you herself. In my mind’s eye I defeat her with one stroke of my blade, her wicked eyes wide in surprise as she slips to the ground, and I turn back to you, her blood splattered across my skin and I’m filled with bloodlust of a different kind, the kind that ends with us both stripped bare and utterly spent and covered in fluids of our own and bite marks spread across our bodies and claw-marks and bruises to match. Undone and rebuilt by one another’s hands.
Glancing back out the window I notice it’s snowing in earnest and I have the urge to go for a walk in it. No shirt no shoes no hat. Let the pure white frozen crystals cleanse my dark thoughts away and replace them with truth and light.
Truth: you’re the most important person in my whole world. Light: you, added to me, make me a better person. Reality: you’re halfway around the world and I won’t be able to leave my house for days.
tara caribou | ©2018
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