The Raving Poets - Victoria Rohac

Perforate

Tonight I walked to the edge of the city,
leaned over onto the railings and smoked a cigar.
And exhaled.

The night before last I dreamt
That I slept with one of your old shirts.
I laid on top of it
And hugged it
And smelled it.
I sniffed it like it was cocaine.
I let it linger on my skin -
And suffocate my pores -

And then I woke up.

Your smell
Destroys me.
It wrecks anything that I have ever tried to embrace after it;
It ruins.
And kills.
And murders the importance of now.
The importance of the present.

It murders it because it missed
Out.

It missed out on so much time
And it wants to go back.

I want to go back.

I want to go back to the bridge
And the grass
And the snow
And the rain
And the lamp posts
And your door
And that sidewalk
And your funny shoes
And your records
And your hair
And the way it smelled
And your hands
And the way they smelled
And the crease in your neck
And the way it smelled.

The way it all fucking smelled.

I feel perforated.
Emptied out.
Drained.
Cut.

My limbs don’t work
And it’s because of the things I did
Those awful awful things
They cut me
Like an ocean cuts the shore
Like the sky cuts the ocean -
They cut me.
Dug into the depths of my skin
And left me here -
An empty
Dirty
Gaping hole in the ground.

And I can still smell you
It’s still here
With me - imagine that.

I never finished telling you
How incredible it was to watch your body-
Resting.
The breath moving in and out -
Back and forth.

I don't think this feeling is going to go away, because I was there -
Alive and breathing. (I was there….)
And although I'll miss the sound of your heart beating,
This is how I love to remember you -
Frozen in pictures
Laughing.
So I can see all of the wrinkles in your face.

I guess I’ll just keep this memory
Of you -
And it can stay inside my pocket

So you can rest on the ridge of my thighs
And sway on the ride of my hips everyday -
When I take my walk to work.
Or every time I pass that place and think of you.
You can just stay there.
Please stay.

Yes, tonight I realized that you’ve passed me by
And all I’ve got left is this glass of wine.
So I guess I’ll just sit up here - lean over onto the railings,
And listen to the morning -

The birds are singing.