Breadcrumbs #692

Antonio Underwood

Me need you, my need is you. Me knew you, you left me. Your need is him or her.

My needed you and let me know before. You left me before i was gone. In the last words to you, as confusing as maybe you never heard them. It had gone so long, wrong.

From that day you left I became all me again. You became gone. Like now, like then, like none, none other. Like love, no friend like none. Faintly, but never forget. Impress, no regrets. I'm not much with words or what comes next.

I fix my mind and stay tuned to what I believe in. What I choose to have in my life. Freedom of choice, but is it? Can we choose who decides to stay with us when things get hard? Would we choose other if we knew they would run, or just stay alone, calling the only one who really cares, Mom who know what to say. Oh, she’s gone too.

Sitting out on the softball field lawn, it’s where I practice, fix my lips and jaw to warm the embrochure. The right air to flow a velocity of a stream, a stream of air that gives a certain tone a certain expression, it all comes in the wash of sound and tempo.

Now say to yourself, “How do I create that wonderful melody that cheers my mood? Where did it go, I woke up too late" I choose for it to come back. I choose to have that feeling again. Now is it freedom of choice, or what happen when we set if free enough to accept and enjoy?

Cause expressing dislike why they loved you, right? My time here, like time on earth, my time. Time to remember what sticks so deep in my life. To say this without music is what makes people come around and be apart without the audiences’ hand shakes, admiration, then distance.

Maybe it’s heard differently and not so abstractly. It gave me the chance, cause in my statements, they all heard me play a melody and improvise on the theme of my existence, but still afterwards I look around and no one listens. Many times they saw me before I arrived. You couldn’t miss the hue that has a certain connotation, an assuming what is the way you be, to be, need be.

They all know I was serious and didn’t skive, feel like a jerk. Dive right in most of the time with good humor. But they all thought I was just like everybody else.

Now how does this speak out without a horn in my diction and expressions? Is there a piece of music I can read from or do I always have to make it up?

Practice time sitting alone, so easy to observe. It’s up to you. You know we all want to know what’s true to everyone, no, when true to you. Now, back to me, all there is right now.

When you left, I know you grew a new arm, but me I stayed alone, trying to remember the notes I use to play on my horn back before you. Way from want wasn’t true between me and you. This is me, that was you walking away.

Rhymes go flowing easily when you know what you are trying to say. Unless they are incongruent, time never, then never so fluent. When chemicals are the imbalance. Brain chemistry likely, words that seem to fit when together like people never say all that need to be said, so they complete the phrase or, or melody, left as motive or motif, incomplete.

I came to you and you came to me. Here we come still apart. Hi how are you? Fine and you. I have work. Talk soon. Never did it work. We saw each other even across the room, we knew each other. Now, how? Two people know each other instinctively, can never understand each other.

“I still think about what it was like. I think about how hard it was in my dislike. Coming around again, it always does. Leaving a bitter taste. Running away never stays too long.”

A closer view of sadness from the falling and breaking apart, and tragic madness it brought. That’s all I knew. Me knew you. You left me before I was gone.

Going to an ole place we would spend time, saw her again. Pleasant chat. She explained how hard it was to watch me struggle and the amount of darkness she saw coming at me all the time.

“You are dark skinned with such a bright and they are light skinned with so much hate and darkness of spirit. I loved you, but my heart couldn’t watch you suffer any longer. It seemed to never stop"

It happened when I needed her less. She married someone else. She has a family and children that look at me as if I were different than I thought I was. Like a stranger that the parents have said to stay away from. That stare from children that dangers exist.

She has the look of a caring and comfortable connect to a man that asks as they walk away, “who is he?” “Oh, no one…just a guy I knew in school…” Obviously it was school, cause I learned.

It’s Mother's Day and out for a stroll. She would’ve wanted me to. This day brings back memories of closeness. No one closer than the ones you love. Or is it a choice, obviously? Obviously, seen differently, and treated differently than I thought.

Or did I know already, and thought she, who knew my mother, would look past them instead of past me, before I was gone.

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