i wonder about the things that made you lose yourself in darkness. how did it feel when you were drifting? did you try to fight it or did you want it to envelop you so that you didn’t have to hurt anymore?
i understand why you would always say that you just didn’t have it in you to be with me. i feel exactly the same way now. i feel myself drifting outside my body, trying to fly as far away from myself as possible. maybe i could get to paris if i try really hard.
remember our trip there? only you and i would go to paris and barely leave the hotel room. that first night the wine made me so numb. i started to sashay around the bed singing edith piaf songs in my strong brooklyn accent. you laughed so hard you spit some of your crepe onto the rug. we almost found a way to be happy then.
drifting out of myself and finding you is just as bad as being stuck with myself — frustrated longing seeps out of your pores too.
sometimes i feel like i’m the farthest away when i lie in bed with our son. he rests on my chest, his middle and index fingers lovingly in his mouth. we fall asleep in unison, whatever made him sad disappearing, whatever makes me sad reluctantly at bay, unable to compete with the wonderful smell of baby.
he said dada the other day. i went numb, transported to the day when i would have to tell him about you. thankfully, by the end of the week, he had said it to me, the mail man, the cartoon character in the television. come back before it’s too late. i know he could make you stay.
Thank you for your support!
Donations are greatly appreciated to support Lissa's writings and mission to offer sliding scale and donation-based offerings to create greater accessibility and inclusivity.
9 thoughts on “come back to me”
I am running out of superlatives. That is amazingly wonderful. There are so many touches in it, the centre line is perfect balance in thought and structure and the people seem so alive and real and unique. From now on I am just gonna say, that is Lissa (ie perfect).
aww. thanks paul 🙂
it is sad when we have questions w/o answers. There will always be people that just don’t get it. The paris scene is cool–all flows into a touching close.
I love reading flyturtlefly. I look forward to more.
Yes, yes, banging my fist on the desk, yes. Why can’t someone write a letter like that to me. With compassion and wisdom and humanity. I want to learn this lesson.
We almost found a way to be happy then, great pivot. And that last line, I know he could make you stay, wow. But most of all I like how the female character is drawn in sharp juxtaposition to the drifting other……lovely.
You had me hooked. Love it.
why did people stop writing letters? they’re so personal. they’re so intimate.
thank you for this. you’re fantastic, as per usual.
you are so amazingly honest and real and very
brave, and all of this with an excellent writing
and oh yes writing letters, why don’t people write
anymore – i love writing and receiving letters,
but alas no one else seems to
You back yet????
lissa: yess, hopefully i’ll post something new today. i’m feeling a little sick. some weird case of extended motion sickness. flying is not for me.