Jack of Hearts
08-04-2011, 02:23 AM
To really taste defeat is to lose the lesson, I’m told- but what about those times when you’re left holding nothing but a big bundle of hurt, across which my name is inked in big bold letters? How meaningless, how halfhearted are the maxims that you… that is, that I whisper toward my own ears when the anguish comes like a morning rain?
And I was left standing as I sunk in the chair with my head perched upon my palms, finding no relief from her brown eyed pair or heavy heart felt songs. “To touch me is to be me,” she said and I’d just as soon get a long to the final fade, but she grabbed my hand to stay.
The other time, when I was looking in the mirror and I wiped away the smoke… finding identity in every angle of me- but something wasn’t there and I might have walked around as nothing but a big black hole. There were other names for me, sometimes, that borrowed much from the word ‘hole’, but if I’d ever thought I had a chance, you wouldn’t have let her go. You are a dirty room and unfolded laundry and you are unprepared for life and class, but she is not, and you cannot have her. You can always have me.
Don’t mistake it for love, it’s not about love. It’s being loved and wondering who could love us and why. Don’t they know I forget to vacuum? Don’t they know that you get so mixed up in my head sometimes and stumble my way through morally dark rooms? Don’t tell her those things and maybe she’ll come back. Tell her I’m you and she’s gone.
I relaxed my lips when she kissed my forehead and pet my hand before she left. Before she left, she melodied into my ear, “Lace undergarments fall apart faster than pages.”
“I love you,” you said, “and I want to be you.”
And I was left standing as I sunk in the chair with my head perched upon my palms, finding no relief from her brown eyed pair or heavy heart felt songs. “To touch me is to be me,” she said and I’d just as soon get a long to the final fade, but she grabbed my hand to stay.
The other time, when I was looking in the mirror and I wiped away the smoke… finding identity in every angle of me- but something wasn’t there and I might have walked around as nothing but a big black hole. There were other names for me, sometimes, that borrowed much from the word ‘hole’, but if I’d ever thought I had a chance, you wouldn’t have let her go. You are a dirty room and unfolded laundry and you are unprepared for life and class, but she is not, and you cannot have her. You can always have me.
Don’t mistake it for love, it’s not about love. It’s being loved and wondering who could love us and why. Don’t they know I forget to vacuum? Don’t they know that you get so mixed up in my head sometimes and stumble my way through morally dark rooms? Don’t tell her those things and maybe she’ll come back. Tell her I’m you and she’s gone.
I relaxed my lips when she kissed my forehead and pet my hand before she left. Before she left, she melodied into my ear, “Lace undergarments fall apart faster than pages.”
“I love you,” you said, “and I want to be you.”