Clareified

Where does the good go

If you’re moving on, I’m already gone

You made my mind up for me
When you started to ignore me
If you’re over me, I’m already over you
If it’s all been done, what is left to do
How can you hang up if the line is dead
If you wanna walk, I’m a step ahead
If you’re moving on, I’m already gone
If the light is off then it isn’t on
-Hilary Duff

I’m not one for scenes, or goodbyes, or conversations. It’s not that I’m tough or hard — it’s that I’m chicken. Hats off to those “in your face” people, that shit is hard, yo.
Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE drama. I grew up on soap operas and TV and sappy movies. If I could, I’d love to slap someone across the face or throw a drink at them. How kick ass awesome would that be? But I can’t do it.
Chicken.
So, I’ve become a fade away kinda gal. Exeunt stage left, as the playwrights say. I’ve never been sure if that’s exactly what Neruda was after in this poem. But it’s always been my take away. Love/relationships are self sustaining. Those where one loves the other more, other needs the other more are already finished, one person just doesn’t know it yet. It feeds on itself, the minute any part of it dies away, it all dies away. No conversations or timeouts or teary goodbyes. If you’ve left me at the shore, know that at that very hour, that very minute, I’ve set off for another land. I love the line: If suddenly you forget me/ do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
The connection is severed just that fast. Boom. Snap. Cut.
But if you’re steady and true, so too, will I be. No muss, no fuss.
It’s perfect really. In reality it’s not as clean as all that, obviously, but if you try to get as close as you can, well, let’s just say, it’s good enough.

If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine

13 Responses to “If you’re moving on, I’m already gone”

  1. Katie Says:

    I really like this. Thanks for sharing. :)

  2. Angela Says:

    Wow, that’s a good one. I like how the deep sweetness of the last paragraph is counterbalanced by the previous paragraph of “you don’t own me, bitch.”

  3. Angela Says:

    What the hell. This is a good poem. Why aren’t more people commenting. You should do something about this. Inflict some kind of wrath.

  4. Dawn Summers Says:

    I know, right? In one hour there’d better be twice as many comments here or three cupcakes on my desk, or else!

  5. pearatty Says:

    I think it’s hard to comment on a good love poem. What do you say? “Yep, that’s about right.”

  6. Dawn Summers Says:

    Yes! That’s exactly what you could say! You’re a genius.

  7. Tae Says:

    Um…yep, that’s about right (thanks pearatty).

  8. Dawn Summers Says:

    Tae comments! You know where I could really use those…

  9. Tae Says:

    I know, but it was so incredibly painful. Once I pull myself together… phew.

  10. Pdov Says:

    Funny story about slapping someone and throwing a drink in someone’s face. When I was in Scotland, I got to go to a murder mystery party, where I was acting as the jilted lover. It was hosted by the FilmSoc which I was part of. I guess they had a tradition that each year this particular guy (who was my ex in the script) gets slapped and gets a drink in his face. So the whole time I was there (besides getting drunk) I had chase this guy and throw a drink at him & slap him. I imagine the real thing is much more satisfying, but when slapped him, it was very fun although, to call what I did as slapping is stretching the definition of that word. I seem to recall that I also managed to get his shirt wet.

    Over the years, I’ve become more used to friends becoming ex-friends. It’s still hurts, but whereas before I would try over and over re-ignite the old spark that made our past times so good, it’s now plain to me that it is futile and I’m okay with that. Being an adult ain’t always bad!

  11. F-Train Says:

    This comes as close to “explaining a lot about you” as anything ever posted on this blog. The rest – the part that defies explanation – is attributable to your insanity.

  12. DRobbSki Says:

    Why did I think, as I read this post, that at the end you would announce you were not going to fade away without warning, but rather announce that you were giving up Clareified?

  13. dawn Says:

    Dunno…did you see Mark Anestis’ comment on my facebook link???? Did you? Did you??

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