if you tell me where we're going then i'll tell you where i went after the marathon.
you won't like it. i did.
you sent me like an orphan to the countryside in wartime, you wouldn't look me in the eye so i did, in the mirror: teeth bared, never flossing.
maybe you were right, for all the fuss. i was a child.
//
things i'm ugly about: this.
slipquick yeses overrode the bowl, they brimmed the edges, i stayed the course. i lost my grip in the mess on the tile.
one more glass, one more night, one more if, until i crawled up the bedskirts (not yours, i tried) and nothing got good.
by the time the race was over my train was pulling from back bay. i pulled my hair from the shower drain that night and gagged -- but that was after.
//
no more mr. nice guy. no more rings in times square and that's ok.
the frosting tasted like crisco. the fries were soggy. it was dirty in the corners.
it's gotten worse -- commute crush weed whiff elmo elbows -- or maybe i have gotten better. a woman now, though you never planned to meet her.
at least the lights were bright. at least i had you in new haven.
//
and floating in the met before the nameless whore, and through the streets of providence, wasn't it grand?
watching one another in the café mirror. finding myself in your margin notes. convenient blurs on names and dates and -- but that came later.
treasure the moment before the egg falls. ponder the yolk's spill.
that's what i did on the amtrak south. i forgot the alchemy of human connection, lingered just a second longer on the cymbal splash of chemistry.
//
i wonder if she smelled me on her couch, or felt my eyes on her countertop mailpile. i wonder if the dog i met was really yours.
you poured me wine and begged me not to write you in. i promised, (forgive me,) i lied. i found the café mirror again and still your shadow's there.
there is so much pain in the world and tonight it's all here in this room.
come taste it with me.
About the Creator
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Broken Hearts Fall Silent
Attraction can sometimes be a deceptive guide, leading us through a mirage of charm only to leave us stranded in a harsh reality. It's a cruel twist of fate when the dream we chase turns into a nightmare we cannot escape. The realization that we've been deceived by our own feelings is a bitter pill to swallow, leaving us to pick up the pieces of our broken illusions. Yet, it's often through these painful experiences that we grow stronger and learn to see beyond the veil of mere appearances.
By Mercedes Chavez3 days ago in Confessions
Comments (26)
Congrats on Top Story!🥳
Melancholy!!! Congratulations onTop Story!!!💕❤️❤️
This was so gripping and powerful
Breathtaking - I have no words
Congrats on the Top Story!
I love your sad story
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This is fucking masterful. Suze...like Kendall said...I too envy your wordsmithery. You have such a beautiful, realistic but poetic way with words. So much of this was easy to follow and feel...even if it was open to interpretation at times...but lines like "i wonder if she smelled me on her couch, or felt my eyes on her countertop mailpile. i wonder if the dog i met was really yours." and elmo elbows...like. Suze...I wish to write like this! Congrats on a well deserved Top Story...I hope you felt better after writing and publishing this...it's a beautiful purge.
Your use of language makes me jealous... Slipquick much? Top Story, indeed...
I really have no words to say , except this was extremely moving. Congratulations
amazing work! Keep it going
Marvelous work! Keep it going—congrats!
OMG YESS!! So glad to see this here! Congrats on TS! I'm obsessed with this
This is incredible. It felt more like reading your mind than reading a poem, all these thoughts, images plucked from memory. Really, really well done.
Very powerful piece here, I loved, “the frosting tasted like crisco. the fries were soggy. it was dirty in the corners.”, because it felt raw and so emotional, like nothing in life is enjoyable anymore. Your talent continues to amaze me Suze
i wonder if she smelled me on her couch, or felt my eyes on her countertop mailpile. i wonder if the dog i met was really yours. So visual!
“you wouldn't look me in the eye so i did, in the mirror: teeth bared, never flossing.” Ahh that’s so raw and visceral. “things i'm ugly about: this.” Great line. “or maybe i have gotten better. a woman, now, though you never planned to meet her. at least the lights were bright. at least i had you in new haven.” The bittersweet, resigned tone of this is breathtaking. “you poured me wine and begged me not to write you in. i promised, (forgive me,) i lied. i found the café mirror again and still your shadow's there.” I can’t even explain why I love this so much but it’s just beautifully written. “there is so much pain in the world and tonight it's all here in this room.” That is so so heartbreaking but perfectly worded and I had to reread it over and over again. “come taste it with me.” A perfect perfect ending to an extraordinary poem. Words cannot explain how much I love your writers voice. This is the kind of poem that will be remembered through time like Edgar Allen Poe’s.
The way you describe yourself as a child in past tense and later pull up imagery of a spilled-out egg made me picture the yolk as a source of nourishment for something still developing, no longer serving its initial purpose, but still begging contemplation. Beautiful, bittersweet read. New York by St. Vincent is stuck in my head, now.
Forbidden taste, bitter-sweet recompense for all that is lost, borrowing it from another.
What a piece! The emotion and imagery behind this is truly something else. Beautifully written and well done!
Wow. This work is so visceral! I could feel it both in my bones and in my craw. I love the illustration, both spooky and Edward Hopperish.
Absolutely gorgeous.💗
So intelligently and beautifully crafted, I usually try not to read other comments until I've made mine but I did inadvertently and pretty much, Hannah said what I wanted to say.
I read this twice. Twice and more, chunking it. I love how you looked yourself in the eye, and how you lied. I know there is huge bitterness in this, but it also feels like there is a claiming of self, too.
Omg, this is a masterpiece. I’ll be back to reread and say more later!