And not Love—

To eat

& drink...

And taste of

To see

& feel...

And know—

If we are for real.

#NotLove #Challenge

not knowing what love is or what it is supposed to do to and for us.

It doesn't pay the rent or put food on the table because love isn't a real thing where it wakes up every morning, gets dressed, goes off to work to earn a paycheck, and pay the bills.

Then there are those joyful and memorable moments that happen in life, the kind that's like a Kodak moment meshed into the heart and mind, but really, how often can that happen.

You have your first childhood sweetheart crush only to have it all wash away somewhere and you don't even remember alll the details how and why it happened. So in some respects, love has a poor memory.

Then, when you know from the pit of your being you have found the one for life, a day and eternity, that too, all goes away over time.

Why is that?

Nothing lasts forever, not love, not life, not even a memory.

In the center of me,

There’s you.

There’s your name and your hair

And your fingertips.

And your perfect eyes.

In the center of me, there’s you,

But in the center of you, there’s nothing.

In the center of you, what you have is Not Love.

You fake it with three words,

When really you should have been saying

“I Not Love You.”

#notlove

where are you now?

it's been years since I first

lost myself

in those headlights: how they seemed

to flash and stop and disappear

all at once. not a car, I decided,

but your eyes: how they seemed to glow,

how light seemed to favor only

you.

who are you looking for?

it's been years since we first

stood at that window, facing not each other

but concrete and the blue sky.

you spoke of escape as if

it was never within your grasp,

but remember, you didn't have to

stay.

why didn't you wait for me?

so many times. running. walking so fast

just to catch up with you,

and for what? it was like

chasing down a taxi

I had no money for. you

were too good for me. and too

far.

what is it you felt for me?

I could never find the answer.

not hate, I knew,

you smiled first, and waved,

and made me believe I meant something

to you, or to the world, if not

to myself.

not love, I knew

and left that light

that had, for some time,

touched me also.

____

for a moment, from his seat on the edge of the bed, he watches how her chest falls and rises, listens to her irregular breaths that fill the deafening silence of the room. then, he shifts closer, slides an arm across the bed curling it around the curve of her spine and levels her up till her face is only a breath away from his. threading his fingers through her black hair, he watches her. his eyes keen on the movement of her lips, how they part and quiver with each breath she utters and how she shivers and trembles in his arms. he could feel the goosebumps on her skin. and he can’t help but notice the skin around her eyes are more hollow, tainted with blue and black. sleep never came for her in years. only little naps like this one. and he knows that well, very well in fact (his face mirros hers). he remembers the nightmares that left her throat hoarse for days, katy still in her arms and thinks, how could anyone sleep? (he can’t remember any nights he slept well after the fire expect for that period he had with his parents– and they’re dead)

he dips his head and rests his forehead on hers. and her skin feels ice-cold under touch like always (to him). calming. familiar in this world that changed so much that he can’t recognize anything or anyone, anymore.

and sinking further into the bed, wraping his arms tigher around her, he joins her. diving into the nightmares. into death.

(it’s not love that binds them together, but the distorted shadows, the demons that captured their souls. the nightmares that leave them vunerable, bare with only a memory left to explore- katy)

The pond is only eight acres. Despite the houses along its west side it remains fairly wild, and draws the wild creatures. The mallards fly in nearly every dawn, leaving at dusk for deeper, safer waters, but when the geese come from the Canadian cold they tend to stay for a while. The heron has claimed the pond for his own, and will fight any other heron that tries it for fish, the fishing being good... bass, perch, some giant carp stocked by my wife to help with the algie, among many, many others. Of a morning a doe sips from the misty bank. We watch her from our breakfast table, she being nervous with her speckled fawn, imaginary threats at every direction. Later, after the working day, and beside the patio fire, come the evening swallows, they silhouetted by blazing reds as they circle for mosquitos, dipping and diving through the dusk before giving way to the bats. Life is never easy, even for the blood-suckers.

All of this besides turtles, buffleheads, tree frogs, and the rare coyote. A pair of red-shouldered hawks nest in the Black Walnut on the eastern bank, while an owl hoot-a-hoo’s from the northern tree-line, ready to take up their raptor’s baton for an evening hunt. It is most entertaining, and we never tire of watching, my wife ever with camera at hand.

But our favorites are Kay’s Swedish Blues, a pair of domestic ducks purchased as a pair and dropped into the pond by my wife three or four years ago. Flightless ducks safe in a tiny pool surrounded by dangers. They have no nesting box, and I gave them little chance of survival when she first brought them home, but they have made friends with the mallards and the wood-ducks, and they swim together alongside the loons, and the buffleheads. The key word being together... always they are together.

On the days with no mallards the Swedish Blues fish together by the bank, four webbed feet and two duck butts bobbing on choppy waves. On days when the mallards come the pair join together in the play, or in the fight, together, or they laze together in the duck crowd, enjoying the walnut’s shade. When night comes and the wild ducks go, our pair finds the reedy bank, floating in the shallows there, always together, the one-legged heron standing guard nearby, three black shadows quiet in the moonlight, awaiting another day.

When Kay goes out with a bowl of corn the pair swim wildy for her from across the lake, sometimes lifting above the water on shaky wings, but it is not love driving them to her. It is only hunger driving them, animal instinct, and I wonder if theirs can even be love for each other? They are only ducks, after all. Yes, they are tied together with an invisible line, never to seperate. Yes, they need each other desperately, that is obvious. They are the only two of their kind in this micro-world. What more could either one want but for another to share the trials of life with? But, what will happen to one when the coyote gets the other, or age? The loneliness will be unfathonamable for the one left, and unbearable, but still it is not love. It is something. Surely it is something, but it cannot be love...

the break up

and I know it doesn’t have to be.

and that makes it even more stuck

inside the theme of itself

I’m dating myself

pulling and gripping

and masturbating and coddling onto myself

throwing affections into air

only the boomerang doesn’t reach me

it’s sucked and funneled into him

and he eats it as if it were guilt.

the taste is guilt

for him

And I knew

the societal method

for keeping him crawling

threats and labels

stringing open a tear

our sustenance to stay alive

I’d like to ask him: “Did you know

that we were never going to be

on the same wave length

the way

I knew?”

We both knew

in our private

and wise quarters

That’s what we were for one another

something for the resume

lessons and courses to complete

“You could’ve found beauty in me”

and I say this

to feel like the good guy

though I do not believe my statement

His mind could never see mine

We are the panic

tempered and moved

solely to secure

spots

in a class

a course on something unique

the panicked mind

starts to reach far

for connections

excuses

landing on desperately common turf

the panicked mind approves the bland connection

good enough

we will peddle to persevere

the panicked mind

lands on places of decency

the panicked mind thinks:

there was something very worth it to me

so worth it

that I will not look over there

continuously we could blind ourselves

to stay a part of it

I begged for him to point out

and notice me

I thought it was within reach

there is no energy towards his regret

he can swipe it clean

it’s cleaner breath now

focused eyes

guilt no longer pummeling

through digestion

he never took off that stoic face

pre-emptive hard work

too ready to expel energy

into something that should give energy

the dressings he needs to be a suitor

leg work

he’s got painful realizations right now

truth about the depths of my distaste

how I don’t really like him all that much

and they’re probably justified

we’re back to our wise corners

the truths

of my unlove

make him panic

back into love

I weakened myself

for his confidence

to bring the parts of him out

that I love

the arrogant mind

doesn’t ask questions

or learn from every passerby

or admit they learn

from every passerby

bless the deliverance, though

thank you, dear universe

a new mixture of feelings and pain

I could never have composed

oh world

never ceasing to deliver

some a freshly unique

new painful dynamic.

intoxicating

pulling me close

but leaving me so distant

a new kind of self I couldn’t fall into

without the grasps of your wraith

and there are feelings that fly in

at the mention of

break ups

and endings

we roam with those

exist from those

Going through the motions of love

The hollow good morning texts

The walks beside the Irish sea

Days in bed wrapped up in each other

Nude with no racing hearts

We remember our love well

We are actors

Fooling each other and outselves

Not love just a shadow in the shape of love

“Kiss me,” she says.

She dares.

My blood stops moving.

My eyes lose focus and cross.

Blink.

I see the chasm

Clear and gaping

Unhidden by the falling snow

We have ignored it for months

Creeping slowly away from each other

Neither one of us wanting

To be near

The other

When its existence was finally mentioned

“I don’t

want to”

words I cannot say

“Do you

love

me?”

words she should not say

I have fallen in

the chasm

She makes no move to help me

She does not move closer

Does not wrap her arms around my chest

Pull my body next to hers

My lips against hers

She does not push me into the snow

Pull my body onto hers

Laughingly press her mouth against mine

Make the choice for me

“I love you so much—”

“—but not in the way you want me to”

I have no other words to explain

When we breathe the same air

My stomach twists

Bile rises in my throat

When she touches me

I no longer feel alive

My fingertips fall away

My chest stops moving

I have no tongue

To voice the words

“stop”

“no”

“please

don’t”

I should want this

This should make me happy

This will make her happy

This is what you do

When you

love someone

I do not want to touch her

I do not want to kiss her

I want to hug her

Feel her heart beat into mine

Let our bodies remind each other

There is

Something alive

And real

Outside of the voices

In our heads

I want to braid her hair

In our half dark house

On mornings that are

Too soft

For speaking

I want to hold her hand

Guide her through crowds and across intersections

Be pulled along by her optimism and joy

Speak in pressure and pulses and prayers

I want to cradle her sleeping head

Twirl her on street corners and around light posts

Feel the crinkles of laughter in her face

And the music in her words

Smell her sweetness in the warmth of her skin

But to her

This

is

not

love

“I’ve never been

like

other

people”

my words do not make sense to her

my words hardly make sense to me

“I didn’t tell you earlier, because I thought you would like me less. You would look at me differently. You wouldn’t want to be my friend.”

Silence

No heartbeat

Silence

No breath

Finally

she speaks

“I never wanted to be friends with you.”

But that’s all I ever wanted from you.

I wanted to be your friend. To love you wholly, completely, platonically. To give you the best love I have, the only love I know how to give.

words I do not say

I do not know how to make her understand.

I do not want to try and use all the words I have and

Still have her not understand

Still have her leave

The voice in my head and I stand alone in a chasm

She looks down

Searching

Unable to find my eyes

And only seeing emptiness

She turns and walks away

’Twas not love when the sun rose

Devoted, a friend

As I rest in its shadow

While it kissed me again

’Twas not love when the wind,

From my face, swept my hair

Nor still pond’s reflection,

My eyes as I stare

’Twas not love in the clouds

Sculpting stories to tell

’Twas not to be found

When cloud’s cover befell

’Twas not love in the rain

Soft caress on my cheek

Nor the moon’s wink in day

Crescent sliver, a peek

’Twas not love in the rainbow

A promise to keep

In joy and sorrow

Tender watch over me

’Twas not love when the birds

Serenaded me, sweet

Or the home that they built

In the old Maple tree

’Twas not love when the river

Cresting its banks

Swallowed me over

Fervor un-contained

’Twas not love in the meadow

Bouquets fresh, in bloom

Gentle breeze and its echo

Swaying treetops in tune

’Twas not love as I daydreamed

Beneath the tree’s shade

A mirage it all seemed

In the heat of the day

’Twas not love, the green grass

Each blade tickling my feet

Or the blanket of topaz

My cover to sleep

’Twas not love; eve’s sunset

Coral-pink artistry

Fiery flamed portrait

Love’s intensity

’Twas not you, my dear love

Now with nature, as one

Restituted to dust

From whence you did come

photo credit captainkimo dot com