The Messes of Men

yourclogsarewank asked: Your tattoos are the shit.

Thank you mucho! I should see if I can put a picture together that could display them all simultaneously for you. In fact I just got a new one yesterday, I’ll post that first :)

Tie me up, untie me.

Kevin sits beside me. I’m naive and decide within minutes that I like him for his dimples. I’m constrained, 15, and he’s 7 years my senior. He shares the same sickness that left me fatherless a year before, and I realize later that this is probably his true appeal. I think back on 3 weeks before, when we met. I recall his exact movements, down to the shirt he was wearing when he shook my hand and smiled. The snow stacks like a monument and I’m close enough now to know his fears. I memorize the cracks in the wall and give him permission to fade. He is unashamed and my curiosity piques, resulting in my failure to look away. I feel querulous, but my tenebrosity keeps my eyes focused. He touches my arm, nods off, and I’m foolish enough to find it endearing. I watch him sleep. In his waking life, he blows through me like the wind. He’s only half here, a re-visit to gather his bearings. A funeral for his father. In 6 weeks, he’ll be headed south again. He apologizes for living with eyes closed. He apologizes for lying. He tells me of a dream he’s had, of his next return home where 3 years have passed and I’m different but much the same. He says I still have my head on straight and for the first time, so does he. “When I see you in my dreams, everything is okay,” He compliments my dress and I decide that I will miss him.

A written update, a letter for each year that passes. A favor from me to him. Technology reassures me that he’s out there, breathing. His mother still visits me at work, and tells me of his wife & baby. The crushing and a whispered name. His friends dont even recognize me anymore.

Kevin blows back through town. I give it more time before I visit him. its been 3 years, and every thing’s ok. He’s already been dead once, and he promises to stick around this time. He claims his happiness is real now and he’s keeping the darkness away, but he says this with eyes down, so I change the subject. He notes my achievements, sings words I wrote, and shares photos with me. He makes me french toast and we sleep side by side. I wear him on my skin, and the wind takes him away again.

I once read that the meaning of life is to fall 7 times, and get back up on the 8th. Another year passes, another letter home. Rumors of where the time has gone. Another promise broken, autumn leaves fall, I lose count of the days…and Kevin doesn’t get up this time. I sit on my living room floor and cry for him. I am one less person at his funeral. What blows through me now is something less than distance and stronger than wind. It chills me to the bone. Silence comes for a moment. I regret reservations, and keep his smile in my minds eye. Another little girl has lost her father and my sympathy for her feels closer than my memories of him. I start my life over again, absent a friend. The world doesn’t notice.