Sunday, September 07, 2014

Late Night Grande Hotel

And maybe you were thinkin'
That you thought you knew me well
But, no one ever knows the heart of anyone else
I feel like Garbo in this late night grand hotel
Cause living alone is all I've ever done well

~ "Late Night Grande Hotel" - Nanci Griffith

I don't have anything left.  It's all gone.  Maybe it all had to be dumped out so something new could come in.  We're not to that point, though, so I can't tell you.  I'm not hopeful.

And I used to be.

I miss the me that was hopeful.  Now, I fake the optimism, try to keep the mask in place, hope the seams and the cracks and the patches don't show too much. I stay as still as possible, try to smile a lot, use misdirection when needed. I'm not as good at it as I used to be.  Probably, I'm getting worse every day.

I feel like a bird with broken wings.  I stare up into the sky, and I know that used to belong there.  I can't get any altitude, though.  All I can do is flutter and wish.  I've been knocked down too often.  By Fate, maybe.  By careless hands that never meant to hurt me but couldn't quite help it.  By my own foolish wishes.

Tomorrow, I'll get up, and maybe the world will be roses.  Maybe my wings will be healed.  I wonder, though, after so much time lost, if I would even remember how to fly if they were.  I'm not hopeful.

And I used to be....