Wednesday, June 1, 2011

mostly true musings on missing

I put my memories of you on the gramophone and played them all night long.
I awoke in the morning, stretched out on the floor like a cadaver.
All I felt was sadness and confusion. Had I awoken from a dream? I don’t remember.
But the sadness and confusion decided to make themselves at home; one nestled in my right pocket, the other in my left.

The rain sang drowsily all morning and dampened the world's colours. I sat at the window and mused how if I should touch any part of the wet world, the colours would come off on my hand.
I contemplated going outside and tracking the grass's green into the worn, grey asphalt. Perhaps I should have run my hands across our blue car and then streaked my fingers across the sky, making it blue again.

I took the poem with the cracked frame off the wall and replaced it with a Monet: vague, colourful, whoami?; it seems to fit my life right now.

Do you know how to say 'I miss you' in French? 'Tu me manques.' That literally translates as 'You are missing to me'. I love that.
The phrase 'I miss you' seems so solitary, as if the missing process only concerned 'I', myself. But 'tu me manques': your presence is evident, you are the subject of the sentence.
Likewise, you do not miss me, I am missing to you. Je te manque. We are a whole that makes no sense apart.

At first, I thought I would be fine. Now I feel as if my subconscious has been dyed the colour of your eyes. Underneath every thought and action it’s there, a wandering, green phantom. I can't wash it out no matter how hard I try. Though perhaps I was hardly trying at all... (It's too wearying to care enough these days.)

It seems to be my fate to miss the times and places that have gone, and the people too. The times and places cannot be helped, but the people... perhaps I am at fault. Maybe there is something I could have said or done, so that I would not be here, feeling lost and dreaming of you. Yet there is a thought that haunts me: I am happier this way, missing you. That I have made you transcendent as an intangible and your reality could never measure up.
For all I know, that could be true. But it has no chance of being proved or amended because... tu me manques (and I fear it will last forever).

{1st picture taken from text of "Miss Bishop" by Bess Streeter Aldrich, 2nd picture taken by me [the painting is, of course, by Monet], 3rd picture is of Paul and Linda McCartney taken from his 'Maybe I'm Amazed' music video.}


  1. This is beautifully written... it really captures the feeling perfectly. I feel this way, too (it's the sadness of finally moving forward), and I am both afraid and happy that I like the imaginary counterparts of the friends I've said goodbye to more than their real selves.
    'You are missing to me.' I love some things sound more meaningful in a different language than in English. One of my favourites is probably 'Ai shiteru',one of the many Japanese phrases that means 'I love you'; it literally means '(I) know love.'

  2. this is beautiful and so are you.

  3. I like that about the Latin languages, and the way you incorporated into your emotions. Glad to have found your blog. (ps. lately I've been feeling Paris me manque)

  4. Oh, lovely. Your words always capture quiet melancholy so wonderfully, and it's very very touching. And you know how to make me happy by mentioning Monet in a post & combining art with your lovely words! The way you mix poetry & prose is so magical, darling.

    And yes! I am going to Paris, and all kinds of excited :D I'll be sure to take lots and lots of pictures, but of course, it's a long way off yet! xx

  5. how if I should touch any part of the wet world, the colours would come off on my hand.

    i also wondered about it, as if everything is painted in watercolor.

    Beautiful, beautiful piece. With this, Melee, i am proud to say that you are my friend. I wish i know how to speak French too, but i can only know too little.

    You are wonderful.♥

  6. You never, absolutely never cease to amaze me with your writing prowess. This is really so beautiful!

  7. Lumina: Thank you very much! It is gratifying to know you share similar thoughts.
    Oh, oh! I love that! Thank you for sharing. :)

    Sarah: Thank you, dove. And speaking of beautiful, I love your new profile picture! You look extremely classy. <3

    Shopgirl: Thank you so much! (Paris me manque, also! Even though I've never been there, I still miss it.)

    holly and the wolves: Thank you, dearest - I cannot express what an encouragement your comment is. So often I get frustrated with how prosy I am. There are seriously days I feel like the most unmagical creature that has ever existed. So, your comment is the sweetest heart's balm. <3 And one can never go wrong with a Monet/art reference. :)

    So awesome. With the way weeks seem to be speeding by, it'll be here in no time!

    haze: Awww, thank you, dear friend. I'm happy to know you have felt that way (about wet colours) too.
    My French-speaking skills could use much improvement, I'm not too bad at reading it, though. But you are already fluent in more than one language! That's much better than me. :)
    You are wonderful too. <3

    Gypsy: You are too, too kind! Thank you, my sweet. <3

  8. Dear Melee, this is so beautifully written and it leaves me with a heavy heart. The Monet looks stunning, from what I can see of it. All my love, x

  9. This makes me feel too many things to put into words; my mouth is dry and my voice is hoarse. I wish I could share more.
    Please know that your are beautiful.

  10. Thea: Thank you from the bottom of my heart, dear. The Monet used to hang in my room at my grandparent's house, but when they moved they didn't have a place for it, so they gave it to me. So not only is it beautiful, it holds memories. :)

    Heather: Your "inarticulateness" is more than eloquent. Thank you so much, lovely. <3

  11. Wooooaaahhh, I love the topic of this post! Your poems are always so beautiful, but I really enjoyed your exploration of missing. I studied French and I didn't even know that! (No surprise though - I'm a terrible language-learner).

    I like how, when you say you miss someone, that person is linked with you in the sentence. There's something cozy about that, like, saying it in French makes missing someone easier.

    Oh! And your first excerpt was great! I want to go read "Miss Bishop" now :)

  12. This post has brought to me the finest poetic prose in a much needed way. Some days feel too common and practical.
    I loved the little French lesson, too.
    You have such a perfect imagination!

  13. This is the loveliest thing I have ever known.

  14. CloudyKim: Thank you so much, Kim! I'm right there with you, I'm not that great at learning languages either. I'm sure that omission was your curriculum's fault! Of course, I only found out this year how to say "I miss you" in French and I've been taking it for several years now.

    It is rather cozy. :) Even saying aloud "I miss you" (in any language!) to the empty air makes the other person feel closer. But maybe that's just me. :)

    "Miss Bishop" is a wonderful book! Except it's rather hard to find. But any book by Bess Streeter Aldrich is a good choice. Though I am slightly biased...!

    Jade: Oh, dearest - thank you so much. I could not appreciate your comment more.
    Et, merci! :)
    I'm glad you think so; I try to keep my imagination finely tuned. :)

    Autumn: You are so generous. Thank you very much. :)

  15. Evocative, melancholy. Tres exquisite. (That is the extent of my French.)

  16. Ahh, merci beaucoup, chère Jenica. (I'll bet you can translate that!) :)

  17. Just gorgeous, and heartbreaking, and haunting, and grey, and colorful. I am lost for words and yet filled with them. You have truly outdone yourself here bird. How I have missed you so.

    xx and hugs


  18. Oh, Jhordyn - thank you so much. Your comment is the most enheartening sweetness. You're lovely. <3

  19. Thanks melee :)
    We are so very alike! And don’t worry, I think you're awesome :)
    I think separated twins sounds like a very plausible thing, especially with our matching frustratingly curly hair and odd sock habit. And thank you, I love the bubble one as well, reflections in bubbles are just beautiful :)

  20. Hehe, thank you! :)
    You are quite welcome.
    I'm glad you find my theory plausible. My parents have some explaining to do. ;)


Silhouettes of a secret. A story told over a cuppa. Or perhaps just sitting on that stone bench, basking in the moonlight... and not saying anything at all.

("I can no other answer make but thanks, and thanks, and ever thanks." -Shakespeare, Twelfth Night)