Monday, May 9, 2011

let me tell you the story

write a story of us, you say.

i know you want butterflies and rainbows, but our story doesn't include either. not anymore. you are preparing yourself for sunshine and daisies, laughter and birthday cakes, and i'm beginning to piece together a narrative where they wouldn't survive. because our sunny days are buried in the past and the sound of our laughter is too distorted to be recognized.

our story has clouds of disappointment that rain down bitterness indiscriminately. it has pages and pages filled with enough tears to make the ink run and drown the world. our story has a vase filled with dead flowers on every single table because you never could remember to water them and i wouldn't do your job. i'm putting together a story that tells of high towers, shaved heads, and laryngitis. i'm trying to find the words that describe a dying breath and trying to remember the exact sound of a breaking heart. the pages of our story are littered with false hope and lost trust and lunch plans that fell through the cracks. every letter of every word screams about the kind of hate that starts wars and ends lives.

the best part of our story, though, is that i'll cover it with lies to make it pretty and you won't even care enough to listen. the best part is that we'll smile as we deteriorate into bones and dust. the best part is that we're serving each other poison and drinking it with relish, calling it lemonade though no one is fooled. the best part is that by the time it gets to "ever after," "happily" will have been a long lost dream.

*The Call - Backstreet Boys

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