Why are you lodged right here in my thoughts, it’s been long enough,
This is the third time this week that I’ve been drifting down this one way street, fixed in-between the median and the sidewalk and you being the traffic that I’m stuck in, I know this isn’t the first time life tried to imprison me, and it won’t be the last that I’m praying to God to drop a word so I can marry his thoughts, as I’m trying to stop the rebirth of butterflies from the ashes within me, I see this couple ahead of me, and yet I hear this voice behind me whispering “take three steps back and tell me what you see now…”
He stood there, all knowingly that he had rehearsed this scene a million times before, he had every line prepared, no hesitation, no guilt, just painting her mind with his palette of make believe dreams, still giving her lines and expressions that not even Hallmark cards could print…
Then I saw her, trying to hide the broken images dancing within as she watched his script written on his face, playing within his eyes, gallows of heartache approaching above her, future in her pocket gripped as his burning words traces the outline of their fate, emotions surrounded her, tangled in anger and tears, hoping he’ll grab an inch of it as she reaches into the deepest pockets of her mind, her voice unraveling saying..
“I don’t want to say you’re wrong but you’re so damn wrong and the last and the next couple of things you’re going to say are most likely are as well. You really know how to make fairytale dreams and castles out of sand. “The Prince of Strokes” they should call you. You cast your shadow where it shouldn’t be; you leave your scent on other girl’s comforters and lick their ears with your famous three word quote. How dare you speak words of love with hurt in the forethought? I had engulfed your pitiful “I love yous” and lately I’ve been contemplating where did you place my love for you? Maybe it snuck behind you those many nights and you left it by her bed side, or maybe it got left in-between her lips, you know, heaven is between my thighs, just in case you didn’t get the memo. And one day, maybe not tonight, but one day, someone will choke you up with nooses of honesty and all these memories of me and all the other women you have done wrong will eat at your flesh, have you suffocating on the fumes of revelation of “what you’re really like”, because you need to consider yourself less than, inferior to, almost but never quite, the man you think you really are, and the side effects of this revelation may include finding your manhood, respecting women, understanding the value of love, not speaking in guarantees, and simply doing what you say you will do. I know you’ll try to prove these words I speak wrong but the parade of scars you leave behind on me and every other loop on your belt buckle is living, breathing diaries, and I could stay mad at myself for loving you, and I could be mad at you for not loving me but someone else,
But then how would that help me?”
Then I saw her take three steps back, and walk away….
No comments:
Post a Comment