I used to call you home...

Bellingham, I used to call you home:

Vague familial ties keep me coming back to you.

“The Great Green Haunting”, that’s what I shall name you.

Constantly eroding the softened edges of my memories, singing an enchanted tune, calling me, like the tide responds to the moon, home to the shores of my belabored birth.

And so I return, and like a bitter sweet reunion you tell me you were once in love with me in our youth and now so much time has passed your heart has turned for a less softened girl.

It seems to me that you cannot handle the femininity I now carry between my lips, my arms, my hips. You can’t seem to handle the confidence with which I step.

You awakened for a moment to show me your strength and then you denied all feeling, and gravitational pull to what you know is your dream finally fulfilled in a being too real to be true.

And yet, here I am.

I walk barefoot in the grass whenever I come home, I like the grass here. It’s cool and sort of sticky and somehow it roots me to the earth…

You never were enough for me, but the memory of your beauty and the desire that curbs all of your roughened edges still gives me some unfounded hope that someday I will not come home to pain.

You. Are a cross that I bear, and I probably feel the same to you, and we are both weighted down by unspoken paragraphs of pain, desire, truth, beauty, strength, and something I think might be love.

And this time its different, it’s the end of something, of unrequited desire that lay smoldering for years. Snuffed out finally by time and so many tears, held captive inside of me, I forgot to breathe, pain so great, I’d love to hate, but find myself unable or unwilling or maybe I’ve just learned how to be forgiving after all of these years.