Who's Fault Is It Then? Chronicles Poem by Lauren Michaels

The ocean is stony from this distance.
Great, glistening planes of steel living.
At flying speed everythings still and full.
The death and the love and the giving.

And it feels like you're never coming home.

Those tears that fizz down the mouthpiece.
My hands always scratching or smoking
I can't stop losing all this weight now.
All tangled and caught up in missing.

And it feels like you're never coming home.

II


I want you to take something with you
Something through which I can live
And I would have given you anything
But I was never mine to give.

And everything else is imitation
Steel lined faux-passion living
And we can't adhere to limitation
but We can't cross oceans swimming.

I want you to take something with you
Something through which I can live
And I would have given you anything
But I was never mine to give.

III
I take stock of things lost
At home
And somewhere in the distance.
And I'm always questioning their worth.

And I'm anxious I'll admit it.
I've always hated to fly, and I'd rather
A plane than this bucket of sorts.
But terra firma brings little ease.

It seemed like hours til I found you
Six thousand phone calls later.
'Where are you now? '
Funny how the last ten minutes seemed longer
Than all the weeks beforehand

I couldn't sleep at all you know.
It's far too cliched for our disaffected ways.
But I just watched you instead.
Not wanting the solitude of slumber.
Rather this waking content.

But I made the foolish mistake of blinking.

'We've done it before, we'll do it again'
Oh just kiss me will you
Give me something less sorry to dwell on.
And give me your jumper for warmth and for scent.
(myohiminloveagainscent)
And promise me
Promise
You'll write.

But you wont.

Life moves too fast to be captured in letters.
Its just one more universal tease.

At least I know you're out there.
Still, its horrible really.