It is, after all The Winchester Way.

Maybe if I do this… this one Thing. Thing with a capital letter, to show that it’s very definitely Important. That one day he’ll look down at this book in his hands because he recognized the author’s name in a bookstore he’s shopping in with his… whoever. The cover will catch his eye first, perhaps something about the dog on the front reminding his subconscious of times gone by, and he’ll pick it up because now he realizes he DOES recognize that dog, and that name. He’ll flip it over, or flip it open, he was never predictable about doing one over the other, and start reading. In those words, he’ll see the past, and maybe some of the present, or at least, a Present-That-Could-Have-Been. And he’ll wonder. He might even buy the book and read it sitting on the sofa, or on his porch, with his toes resting on a grey-faced dog, coffee cup forgotten nearby. And while he reads it, he’ll think of the past, his past, and I hope to God it crushes him. Sometimes we want to utterly destroy those we love, or loved, just to prove to ourselves that we matter, we mattered, at some point, we were the world to someone. Sometimes, even during the happiest times with another, we can want to completely tear it to the ground, and set it on fire, simply to watch it all burn.

The moment passes, but the urge never really goes away. And so we invent things, platitudes to make us feel better about things we cannot control. The wise King of old stories, asking the eternal question of what could make a happy man sad, and a sad man happy. This too shall pass. Repeat that mantra, understand it, learn its secrets. It makes the deepest nights more bearable, you know that dawn will come, eventually. This too shall pass. One day it won’t be a knife wound in your heart, what feels like a tear in your very soul. One day you could walk past them on the streets and never even notice their face. One day. Still, though, it’s out of your control. What is in your control is the amount of damage you can try and inflict on someone you care or cared about.

“We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.”


Only Fools And Mad Dogs

You’ve given me far more than you think. You gave me the freedom to realize that I was allowed to want more, that I was allowed to have more than I ever thought that I would ever be allowed. You gave me the gift of knowing that I was worth something and worth love and worth all of it, even if it wasn’t from you, even if I wasn’t for you, I was for someone and someone would love me, want me, need me, in ways I never imagined I’d be allowed to have. That they would give themselves to me, be wanted by me, be needed by me in so many immeasurable ways. That someone, somewhere, would be thrilled to get good morning texts from me, and send them in return, and probably more often if I’m being honest, which I am, because you well know I am not a morning person, but you gave me that too, that I would want to wake up earlier than normal some times so that I could send that first text to you, to make you smile and make your heart happy before anything else could do it that day. That someone, somewhere would lay in bed at night and imagine a day where they would be able to roll over and hear me say good morning starshine, instead of just reading it. That I could be enough for someone to lay in bed at night hugging the thought to themselves that “wow, who even knew it was possible to be this happy?”
I wanted it to be you. God damn, I really wanted it to be you. But it’s not, not right now anyway, and maybe we’ll cross paths again someday and we’ll pick up again and our souls will be the right shape together that time. Everyone says third time is the charm, right? Well, I’m not sure that I can let you go, because the first time I did it, I didn’t even know what I was missing out on, and my god am I ever glad you walked back in on pure dumb chance. But for us to meet a third time, to have that third times the charm chance, I have to let you go. I have to let the wheel spin again, and darling, I am not good at goodbyes. I am not good at letting go. I am a good man in a storm, and a better one during smooth seas, but smooth seas didn’t make a good sailor and I’ve weathered more than my fair share of storms, and I think you have too, but I think right now I’m too much or not enough maybe, or your storm is bigger than I can handle, and I’m willing to go down with this ship, but I don’t want to do that to you, Hurricane Daemon, who could shatter the east coast and still make the Midwest shake in fear. You’re the storm of the century babe, and only fools and madmen leave Port in a storm, but baby, I’ve been mad for you from that first hug outside of a Japanese steak joint next to a dilapidated truck, when I heard your heart beat in my ear for the first time and I floated home on a cloud knowing that there was someone else out there whose arms didn’t make me want to run as far and as fast as I could back to safety and comfort and the familiar.
And I’m either a fool or a madman to risk the rain and wind but I’ve gambled more on less, and I’ve come out of the storms stronger and wiser. They say the worst storms come silently and God damn are they right. You walked in that night and we locked eyes and I felt the lightning down my spine and I ignored it, because I was a fool who thought he knew better, but even my weather sense didn’t warn me to run, and the fools luck of mine was silent still when the next bolt hit out of the blue, because lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice, every idiot knows that.
But my god at my folly, I’d already been hit three times and still didn’t have a lick of sense to seek shelter, to turn tail and run. But I’ve never been afraid of storms and that’s my problem and I never even saw the tidal wave coming that swamped my ship until I was taking on water faster than I could bail it out, and at some point everyone stops fighting. Everyone has a breaking point and my breaking point was a week before I left for the beach, you kissed my forehead and then my nose, and you held my hands so softly and the look in your eyes just before I left made my breath catch and I stopped fighting it. Every wild creature craves a soft hand and warm word, and I was wild and half mad from loneliness and in a trap of my own making, in the process of gnawing off a leg to get free and you came through and showed me that it was easiest to stop fighting the trap, that to escape, you had to stop fighting to go forward and just back up a little bit. Just relax and trust that I could actually catch myself and I wasn’t falling I was flying.
And as wild as I am, you are harder still to catch up to in little more than a hairsbreadth of time, but love, I never wanted to trap you, and I never wanted to tame you, I just wanted someone else wild to run with. If I could have changed a thing I wouldn’t dare, because everything I’ve done, every choice, every chance, every scar, mistake and regret led me to you, twice, if you can believe that blind good fortune, but I’m not so certain fortune is actually blind, and I’m not so certain that I deserve a third chance, but darling, if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me. If you ever change your mind, you know where I am. It was always you, falling for me, it was always time, calling for me, I’m the light, blinking at the end of the road. Blink back to let me know. Blink back to let me know.

You’re Original sin, babe

And I know ohhh ohhh
That its been said before,
But I’ll say it again, babe,
You’re the original sin
You walk around about a foot taller than you got any right to be
But oooohh, you’re the right one for me

When I first met you, I was lost,
lost in my own head, blind to everything
But the fact that you were beautiful still registered
Your smile became, quickly, something I looked forward to seeing
When I got to know you better, I was disappointed
Of course, the man in front of me, who was kind,
sincere, funny, intelligent, of course he would be straight
probably happily married, the way he talks about his daughter.

So I put it out of my mind. And then you disappeared.
Where’s Daemon been?” I asked after about a week of not seeing you.
“He quit.” and then “Oh.” And that seemed to be that. I forgot about it, and you
as one forgets about things they know they can never have, can never be theirs, no matter how much its coveted or imagined otherwise.

Then you walked back in my life on June night, into a house I hadn’t even known had existed at the same time I originally knew you and the bolt of frisson that struck me and ran down my spine was electrifying, to say the least

But still I was blind. I just thought, well, its a chance, to reconnect a friendship that hadn’t played itself out. You’d dated Cat. You were definitely straight. I wasn’t even supposed to be there that night. How many little pieces had to click into place for us to meet again, and yet, we defied the odds, and did it. It was all a roll of the dice, and we were coming up aces. I liked you, immediately, even though outside of your work you were awkward, but it was endearing, like a colt trying to find its legs, which is an apt metaphor for you, out of many of them.

But then our conversation in the garage, you assuming I was straight, asking me about women, I remember, well, I know, what little half smile I was wearing as I tried to put it tactfully that you could have a parade of naked women waltz in front of me, and I’d appreciate it, but none of them would turn my head like you were doing, so effortlessly, and isn’t that just my luck, I mean, one in four guys are gay, but there were only five guys at that party, and I knew the gay one was me.

I shouldn’t gamble, I’m obviously terrible at guessing odds, but I’m glad I lost that particular gamble and I’ll never forget the look that crossed your face when I asked if you were picking up what I was putting down. The sheer glee and delight that crossed your face, it’s an expression of yours I’ve become very familiar and very fond of, and I try my damndest to get you to look like that at least once every time I see you.

But still, the future was murky, cloudy, and hidden, like normal, I supposed, but with you there by my side after our first date, and the hug I got from you, things started to shake loose and I could see the potential and it was terrifying. You were someone I was going to allowed to hurt me, if you wanted to. You didn’t want to though, and that made me fall all the more for you. You’re larger than life, larger than dreams, and I knew then and there in your embrace I’d found something I didn’t want to let go.

There’s something tragic and beautiful in two souls that keep finding each other. It’s like the universe is saying “stop separating, I put you two here for each other. be happy” The tragedy is only that you have to seperate a few times for the message to sink home, I think. Maybe twice is all we need. But maybe third time is the charm for you. And I know you’re damaged, and I know I’m not perfect, but you make me want to be better, and if that isn’t some stupid cliche I don’t know what one is then.

Excerpt; Love, of a Kind.

I wrote,

but knew that what I sought was shelter.

I versed to hide from habit’s helter-skelter.

I longed to love

but cloaked my heart in armour.

I learned too late

the coward’s path to karma.

Our lives are short,

yet full of life and laughter,

we guess,

I guess,

that little follows after,

and should we find the ways of fate were mindless,

why then regret a single act of kindness?

This, too, is love, of a kind.


-Felix Dennis

The Little Things

It’s the little things that cut the worst. Things you don’t expect to bother you, end up absolutely shattering you. In the silence, in the noise, on the outside, and at your core. Sitting in an empty house that’s no longer yours, looking out at a yard you don’t recognize, driving by your ex-half-of-your-life love and not even acknowledging that you’ve passed them, in more ways than just physically.

Familiar furniture in unfamiliar places. The house smells similar but just different enough to hit like a blow to the stomach. Same bed, but different covers. The pets you shared now have a different parent, stepping in to fill that gap left behind when you left. Once upon a time, you were told by him that he wasn’t a good person. You laughed, but you should have believed him. It’s not true, but it makes it easier to pretend.