"A Couple Walks at Night" by Maxwell GS

I liked you better when you were frozen.

It was easier to remember what my mother would yell when I played outside during snowstorms.

“Don’t run on the ice! You’ll slip and split your head open!”

And I fell constantly. Ask me for the proof and I’ll show you the half-inch scar that is hidden by my hairline. Still, I loved sliding across ice, and you were no different. I ran my fingers against your skin for moments until moments became months. I learned to avoid your frostbite as if it were the path created by two hands skating around a wrist with a grace known only by steady razor blades. I thought it was romantic. You thought it was… well, my imagination can’t make a decision about this.

I do remember your cold hands and how I would warm them in the dead of night. And when you fell asleep for those few precious hours, I’d chip away bits of your armour until the violence of the morning light raised the little hairs on our eyelids.

If I listened to my mother, I would have known that running, even if it’s only fingers… running on ice is dangerous. But I am not suggesting that you are cold-hearted. You are gorgeous when the sun slips right through you. You’ve kept yourself honest by showing the imperfections where people have used you.

To be continued…

Matthew Dryden

She has just closed the store when I arrived.

She sat at the counter, clicking around on the internet. My day started the moment she looked up and saw me knocking on the door. It was a strange and wonderful feeling to be standing in the cafe after it had closed.

We rearranged the tables to fit the small talk and then watched my directorial debut from high school. She had no idea how much I already liked her, but in her defence, I played that thought very close to my chest.

The lights were dimmed to hide behind the vibrant colors of the artwork on the walls. She and I curled into our chairs and talked about nothing important. If I remember nothing else, I wish it to be the small details in moments such as those; the beginnings.

I could chronicle every moment of my life as it happens, but the most interesting stories come from the things that I’ve given time to sink in. I’m sure that I will catch up to today at some point in the future, but for now I will remember the moments in an empty coffee shop with someone pleasingly interesting.

Matthew Dryden

She believes that love is a desert and that I am her comrade. Though we are not lovers, she imagines us walking arm in arm in trepidation. She sifts herself through the weighty air, believing that we all were born to bright lights for a reason; that we can all burn towards this desert life because we are nothing if not matchsticks stencilling shivers into spines, hoping to burn down to someone’s fingertips.

My comrade dresses in spontaneous combustion and challenges the definition of love as if love was a prizefight being held in a back alley where people go broke on each other and the odds favour the ones who take chances so everyone is lacing up to win.

The Life Update

A friend send me a message today that I was inspired by. I think this is the beginning of a performance piece. I’ve been wanting to write a new love poem…but I haven’t found something to write about until now. The concept of “learning to be loved” is interesting and relevant me.

Maybe this will turn out, maybe not. We’ll see.

Now It’s You

Do you think that you are easy to love? Or even to be liked? If there was one thing you could want someone to love about you, what would it be?

Matthew Dryden