the blinds

I have a strange attraction to the strangest things

Little oddities that remind me of when things felt simpler

They weren’t simple times, and now I know that

But they felt better in the moment and I can appreciate them with a grain of salt.

Tonight I saw the way the streetlights came through the blinds

And it reminded me of the prettiest moment of my life

With a person whose name draws from me an exasperated sigh

Yet I still felt that warmth from the one beautiful moment we shared before we parted.

There are things that remind me of other times and other faces, too

With another who turned their guilt into my shame, my pain, and at some point my death

(in a manner such that I remain on this earth to tell the tale)

I can’t choose to remember those times as fondly as I can the street lamps and the blinds.

I writhe

My escape wasn’t clean

It was like tearing myself through the barbs

And I left behind a lot of flesh and blood for the sake of survival.

Now I have to keep going through that morning haze

When the blinds have too much sun to catch and the walls glow in the cool light of a new dawn

At night I still let myself remember the times when the streetlights knew my face

But here, in a half-light, I will be born again.