Sometimes we see miracles happen in a fountain near a church in movies and on mountains and in the tv screen that glues static to our brains.
We see the lucky ones, soft snow falling on the tips of their noses and love was the four letter word that posed a plot and a conclusion in perfect sequence, what a play.
Everyone was warm with hot cocoa and ready to fly.
But in reality,
we wake up not knowing what to do about our transgressions in the morning.
And in the afternoons we drink too much champagne
And our fights don’t always end up with a witty remark and a comeback and a resolution
Because sometimes our faults become the end of what we pretended.
And when we hurt we do not heal with the following scene because sometimes the minutes etched into our skin could not heal no matter how many 80s movies we pretended to be asleep while watching.
Pictures from a place you wanted to be your future end up as the digression into something you thought was possible and suddenly the American dream meant something other than a fence and the everything you’ve ever wanted and god please someone just talk to me why am I such a bad person?
Someone can save me one day or
Maybe I can save myself
But in the movies they always end up being ok
It’s not always so easy.
"One day, he’s going to know. He’ll know your birthday, your middle name, where you were born, your star sign, and your parents names. He’ll know how old you were when you learnt to ride a bike, how your grandparents passed away, how many pets you had, and how much you hated going to school. He’ll know your eye colour, your scars, your freckles, your laugh lines and your birth marks. He’ll know your favourite book, movie, candy, food, pair of shoes, colour, and song. He’s going to know why you’re awake at 5am most nights, where you were when you realised you’d lost a good friend, why you picked up the razor and how you managed to put it down before things went too far. He’s going to know your phobias, your dreams, your fears, your wishes, and your worries. He’s going to know about your first heartbreak, your dream wedding, and your problems with your parents. He’ll know your strengths, weaknesses, laziness, energy, and your mixed emotions. He’s going to know about your love for mayonnaise, your dream of being famous when you were five, your need to quote any film you know all the way through, and your fear of growing older. He’ll know your bad habits, your mannerisms, your stroppy pout, your facial expressions, and your laugh like it’s his favourite song. The way you chew, drink, walk, sleep, fidget and kiss. He’s going to know that you’ve already picked out wedding flowers, baby names, tiles for the bathroom, bridesmaid dresses, and the colour of your bedroom walls. He’s going to know, get annoyed at and then accept that you leave clothes everywhere, take twenty minutes to order a Starbucks, have to organise your DVD’s alphabetically, and check your horoscope… just incase. He’ll know your McDonald’s order, how many sugars to put in your tea, how many scoops of ice cream you want, and that you need your sandwiches cut into triangles. He’s going to know how you feel without you telling him, that you need a wee from a look on your face, and that you’re crying without shedding tears. He’s going to know all of it. Everything. You, from top to bottom and inside out. From learning, from sharing, from listening, from watching. He’s going to know every single thing there is to know, and you know what else? He is still going to love you."
I will not jump.
I will not jump into guilt and misery when above me a cloudless sky is sheltering me and the warmth of the sun on a cold day is blanketing me in the word “yes” and I am not sad because you want me to be, but I will continue to laugh when I trip over my own feet and I cannot come up with words to say “I’m sorry” when those words are a loaded gun traveling alone down a two way street. Pictures where my hand is wrapped around the camera are now nostalgic pieces with me cut out, and my name only resonates as a stale stench bubbling up in your chest.
But I am still thankful.
What a wonderful thing to be.
"You’ll meet her, she’s very pretty, even though sometimes she’s sad for many days at a time. You’ll see, when she smiles, you’ll love her."
This isn’t just a game anymore
And I’ve torn my heart out
Blood on the floor
And I’ve begged until my friends all left me
Because I belonged where the sun was not just the centerpiece
To this rough batch of life something told us was real
And I’ve counted far too many cards to make deals
And the only thing now that will save my damned soul
Is to jump off the tightrope and straight into my hell
And then maybe the fire will burn slower tonight
And my hands will touch truth and my spine will stand straight
And I’ll forget all the details of each line of your face and my hands will not tremble, my heart will not race
To a finish line strung with blue veins and broken pieces
Of a golden haired girl’s chest pressed into the creases of the earth that I’ve soiled with the soles of my shoes
When I left that night half crazy and bruised
And one day you will smile and it will be true, and I’ll remember everything, but
The one thing I forgot to hold on to was you.