2001-11-10 - 3:22 a.m.
Sometimes, I remember who I used to be....and who I'm trying not to be, and for a brief few moments I almost want that back, and wonder why I gave it up.
I don't really think it's the fact that I truly want it back or wonder why I gave it up, but that for a moment, I remember what I felt like when I had it.
I remember roses with notes attached, and whispers in long empty hall ways, white washed offices and padded cells, the click of my heels on the hard floor, and the clank of cell doors shutting and being locked.
The way it was never silent, and if it was, it gave you chills. How nothing was more important than 'him'....
Feeling that everything would be okay, even when it wasn't. The sound of pop guns, whoopee, cushions, exploding cigars, and flowers that sprayed acid.
There was an enjoyment that came with that red and black costume, it was the shiny black and white shoes by the door, the purple hat hung up with the long black trench coat. It was bottles of white cream make up under the counter and tubes of thick black lipstick, it was the feel of purple gloves against my skin.
It was laughter, like no laughter I will ever hear again, or ever heard before.
It was a kiss, now and then, a caress once in a while, like a secret in my hands, that no one else had and everyone else wanted.
Blonde pigtails and green hair with purple lollypops and killer joy buzzers, rubber chickens with a bar soap in their centers, and planning, oh yes planning, late into the night all giddy.
Knowing you truly were the best.
Knowing it wasn't a joke, it was all true, yet how funny.
It was everything I ever dreamed about come true, and suddenly, I knew, it was killing me...
So it's gone now, going, I can still see it fading away slowly, it's just a whisper now, of something I held so dear.
It's locked away in a closet, and the man I loved once, now I must hate, must forget, must push aside, so we can begin our new lives.
I'm better from, healthy, happier...but I shall never smile like I used to.
I could never take it back now, not that I see the truth.
Smile though your heart is breaking.
I couldn't do it again, I'd have to fall in love with him all over again, and I couldn't, knowing he is nothing but a lie, everything he says is a lie.
Broken heart, torn apart, little clown left to cry.
Nothing but a whisper now, a thought I recall in times of weakness.
And yet, sometimes, I almost call you Puddin', I almost write Mistah J, I almost think of him happily, blissfully, for 30 seconds.
As if he's still there, some where.
I see him for a moment just before I fall asleep, I see us...
Sometimes I look into the mirror and see that crazy little clown, and for a brief moment, I think perhaps,