11.13.2006
Dans la tasse
Il a mis le lait
Dans la tasse de cafe
Il a mis le sucre
Dans le cafe au lait
Avec la petite cuiller
Il a tourne
Il a bu le cafe au lait
Et il a repose la tasse
Sans me parler
Il a allume
Une cigarette
Il a fait des ronds
Avec la fumee
Il a mis les cendres
Dans le cendrier
Sans me parler
Sans me regarder
Il s'est leve
Il a mis
Son chapeau sur sa tete
Il a mis
Son manteau de pluie
Parce qu'il pleuvait
Et il est parti
Sous la pluie
Sans une parole
Sans me regarder
Et moi j'ai pris
Ma tete dans ma main
Et j'ai pleure.
He put the coffee
In the cup
He put the milk
In the cup of coffee
He put the sugar
In the cafe au lait
With the little spoon
He stirred
He drank the cafe au lait
And he sat down the cup
Without speaking to me
He lit
A cigarette
He blew rings
With the smoke
He put the ashes
In the ashtray
Without speaking to me
Without looking at me
He stood up
He put
His hat on his head
He put on
His raincoat
Because it was raining
And he left
In the rain
Without a word
Without looking at me
And I, I took
My head in my hands
And cried.
This poem was my relationship with Stephen. I actually found this poem long before we broke up and I did in fact cry. A french poet had described my relationship perfectly. I didn't know even at that time why I was still with him. I think it was simply because I couldn't bear the thought of just fading away like that. I can't name any particular time when our relationship changed into this cold, indifferent, meaningless routine, I just knew that I was growing more and more unhappy and even I was unsure why. When I read this, I felt as if I had wrtten every word down, it was myself speaking, and thus I kept it in my journal. Just as the person speaking I had no idea what to do, except cry when I was alone. Even now he thought is like a probe inside of the wound that is already in my chest. The idea that I gave everything that I could, that I offered someone all there was of me, that I made someone my reason for breathing, I handed them the heart out of my chest and it wasn't even enough to merit a second thought, even a simple gesture of recognition.
So yes I am bitter. I hold my bitterness high and use it as a shield to protect me from the very thought of all those things that happened in that year. To guard me from the memories of tears that were shed while sitting right beside him without him even noticing, of the tears that were shed in front of him with him smiling at the thought that he had caused him, or calling me names because in his mind I was upset over nothing...of the tears that were shed sitting all alone at my desk, in an auditorioum, or in a grave yard where I went to see Chris while I waited for the phone calls that came hours or even days late because he was too busy with something or someone he found much more worthy of his attention. I was alone because I had made him promises...I clung to every promise that I made to him in the hope that it would someday mean something. I never got anything in return.
It will someday fade, someday when it doesn't hurt so much. Nobody truly knows what all I went through, *half-smiles*, not even you...but I'll get over it in time, I promise....just bear with me. please.
The End.
