Where I prattle on...

Leonde Delmare

Leonde Delmare
Sticks, Maine, US
February 22
Iron Works
I was born in Philadelphia but not sure where I will die. Everything that has happened in between is history.


MARCH 18, 2009 7:56AM

A Loving Dead Letter to Blueness

Rate: 8 Flag

bluepineMost beautiful man, this early morning, after too little sleep, I woke from a dream about you. The last scene was you and me drinking red alcohol from Styrofoam cups and toasting…strange that you were there when you could be with anyone. Awake, I know you can have your vanilla girl and I will drink alone.

Awake I am restrained and think of all the things I forgot to tell you. I keep meaning to remind you to get your passport because I imagine you traveling like you told me you wanted to, that time we were close and your head was open to me. Maybe I want you as far away as possible before this bloody beating thing of mine becomes burdensome.

Burdensome are those blue eyes you insist on having when you look at me but there is nothing I would change about you. Even though everything about you means you have to leave. You were never here in this place of small towns. You have grown too big to hide from followers.

Following is not a genetic trait I inherited. I keep meaning to tell you that when the young girls saw you and me getting closer, they asked me to be their emissary and extract key information from you that I didn’t care to know. I did not need to know your status. I did not need to know that I could be as foolish as a young girl.

I am a fool to become conscious of my now heavy head where you took residence without our knowledge. This can only be a month to month occupancy. I keep pondering evicting you but I know you live in a future that is just a flight away.

I think of you flying to places beyond my reach. Going to places where I don’t want to live. I just want to celebrate your departure. You can not just move an hour’s car ride away. An hour away is too close to me. I already have ties at that short distance of Gray and will see you there.

I was there first. You can’t stay long. You are too young and growing bigger. I know you want New York. You love that team and wear their logo on your cap. You are already there for me and maybe I should be calling you that city by name just to remind you of where you are heading.

You need no reminders from me. I have given you map fragments and you pieced them together in your own style and direction. You never needed me and without my compass, you would still be where you are going.

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I like to write letters that go nowhere to say everything I meant to say...or maybe not...
I really admire your writing style, each paragraph a perfect little nugget of feeling, digested and condensed, crystalline...
I have only just started reading your blog, but must say you seem to have a true literary style. You write poetically, too. Great stuff!
Brian - wow, what a kind comment. I'm kind of raw right now and writing this dead letter helped...to have the writing so appreciated even by one person is soothing. Thanks for reading and commenting.

Amy - I think of myself as a poet first although I write everything from poetry to business letters. Thanks for reading me and commenting, my fellow Philadelphian.
I think lately that the hardest part of saying goodbye to someone who's taken up residence in the corners of your being is that you can't share the hurt with them.
You write about it instead, maybe trying to turn the hurt into something you can be proud of later, something beautiful. Maybe you hope that the writing will evict the hurt from those corners where, exposed to the light, you can reduce it in magnitude or argue it into submission. Maybe you hope that, somewhere out there, someone will say "I feel your pain" and share your burden.
Whatever happens for you after you click "Post," I hope you are proud: it is beautiful. And I am weeping for us both.
'fraggedclaws - your response after reading my post was a lovely interpretation. I'm glad that you could relate. Yes, I wish love was a reasonable being. Thanks for the read and thoughtful comment.
Oh, how we should nourish and hold our memories close to our heart; for we can visit each one at will . . . experiencing their joy tenfold. (Rated for a memory that touched yeaterday)
thanks for reading, geezer - probably short term subjective memory mixed with current reality...but the reader makes the call once I put me out there...get what you can and I really appreciate your reading and commenting.
Did I mention something about discovering great new writers?

Welcome to OS. I'm off to read your other posts.
I appreciate the reads, RIF and your kind and thoughtful commentaries.
thanks screamin mama - I consider your comment a huge compliment coming from a writing and rockin' mama!