I searched among the many words and pictures
for a hint that I might have been alive
in a thought that survived the years.
While you were at work
at play
at life,
I was still stumbling.
Still reeling.
Still wincing.
I have remembered all these years --
the sound of your voice,
the way you looked at me,
the words you spoke to me.
No one saw me that way before
or since.
I had dreamed of this all my life before
and since.
So when the light came through the window afterward
and you asked me to be still
so you could see my silhouette
and pretend for a moment that it was someone else there with you,
someone named Mary...
It set my life on fire.
But it was me, searching among the words
for your eyes to shoot the flares.
It was me wanting you to see me.
You were blind and moved on to work
to play
to live.
I searched for you in every face,
still struggling
still failing
My young heart was the same one I carry now,
somehow still functioning and full of desire.
The dreams are still the same,
the face behind my closed eyes the same,
the words you spoke to me in the dark,
“You belong to me.”
And I did.
The words I hear when I am alone, in your voice.
And I do.
Mary has walked in front of me all my life.
I never filled her shoes
with you,
with anyone
anywhere.
You say that you don't remember.
You regret.
The only thing that survived the years
is the wound left from such longing,
the freshness of my failure,
that I searched for you in every face,
that I found you in every face,
that I am still seeing you in every face,
that you still want Mary.
No matter where I’ve been,
Mary has always been there before me.
Mary has always remained there instead of me.
I have always hated Mary.
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