Footprints in the Hallway

The Website of C.L. Mannarino

Tag: poem

The woman you promised

Ghosts.
Ghosts everywhere.
They hover on the autumn air,
surrounding me,
phantoms of my own
imagination.
That’s been happening a lot,
actually.
You’re not the woman you
promised me you’d be.
If I’m Autumn,
then you are Spring:
hope eternal, and allergies.
Promises to come, but nothing
substantial;
fade into Summer, a land of
broken glass
ground into pearls and beach sand,
and seasonal flings.
Promises for the future, but
nothing you intend to keep.
Ghosts.
All fleeting.
Fleeting means nothing to me.
You’re not the woman you promised
to be.

Copyright © 2017 C.L. Mannarino All rights reserved.

Eating with the Fairies

I’m struggling to
understand
how to reach you
How do I make you care?
“You can’t make people love you”—
well, I don’t want
love.
Or maybe I do.
Maybe I want
more
than you’re able to give.
Certainly more than you’re giving to
her,
more than you gave to
him,
more than you give to
anyone
who asks for it.
But not the rest.
Not the ones who don’t
know
you’re after them, for
stories, or
experiences, or
anything you can
take. Bend. Horde away,
strip of all reality in
your mind.
I can’t actually tell you
anything.
You don’t actually
speak.
It’s all a game of
evasiveness,
leaving everyone else forever
chasing,
and you,
forever running away.
Maybe that’s why I want you.
Maybe that’s why I’m so angry.
It’s not real.
You’re just a fantasy.
And I have to stop eating
with fairies.

Copyright © 2017 C.L. Mannarino All rights reserved.

We All Want

Copyright © 2013 C.L. Mannarino
All rights reserved.

“My name is Shay and this is the assignment my fifth period psych teacher gave me: write about a desire.

We all want

Something.

Hard and glittering

Like a diamond,

Something we need to find.

But I’m not sure we’ll ever get to it.

See, the thing we need has to be separate from us, and unattainable. Otherwise we wouldn’t want it as badly as we do. Also, it wouldn’t be worth the trouble f having.

That thing I want? It’s trapped in the form of another friend I used to have. Yeah, we were close. The closest. She knew everything about me, and I knew everything about her, and things were really good.

Too good, I guess.

Because that’s what happens, doesn’t it? Things get too good to last. And suddenly, it’s too much. Suddenly, there’s pressure. Suddenly, you’re not the thing that person wanted anymore.

But what happens when the feeling isn’t mutual?

She fascinated me. I couldn’t stop talking about her, thinking about her. She was pretty and smart and well-loved and so far out of my reach that she might as well have been sitting amongst the stars.

That’s how it works, doesn’t it? They get too far away and suddenly you’ve lost them.

It’s turning around in the grocery store when you’re five and finding out that your mother’s gone, but you’re too small and too unaware to see through the people into the next aisle, so you panic.

That’s how her abandoning me was. One minute, she was there and everything was good. The next, she won’t answer and she’s been swallowed up by the crowd.

I tried to chase her. I tried to keep up, but the farther I went, the slower my limbs became and the harder it become to see her.

Then she was gone.

I still see her, on occasion. She’s a glimpse between the clouds as they pass overhead. She’s the flash of hair in between the people on the bus, the sidewalk, and she’s the voice I thought I heard calling out to me in the grocery store, the one I could hear in my ear even though there’s no one beside me.

It’s hard to not think about her, but I guess all you can do at that point is move on.

Otherwise, I’m pretty sure we’ll all end up like that Gatsby character we had to read about in English, chasing something you’ll never get back.

And it scares me to think how easily it would be to become him.”

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