you and i danced once
creating our own music as the stars bore witness to our sadness
momentarily forgetting the pile of expectations we made for each other
a paper mache house
destined to collapse
I slipped on my wedding gown and danced with you barefoot across the linoleum
i tried every excuse to stay with you
you were the only real thing i knew
but I received a calling that made me choose
and no amount of adhesive could turn this tissue into brick
so we danced together that last night
both pretending the ending would never come
it’s been two years and i still can’t step into our old restaurant
or walk past the bench where you first admitted you loved me
i tried relationships on like band-aids, but now as i begin this process of exchanging dreams, it’s as if I’m saying good-bye to you for the first time
as i trade our wedding dress for an eternal promise, i have faith we’ll dance again someday
wet new wings wrestle the air
it’s hard to feign strength against the tempest
i find myself missing something that i never had
but too scared to consider the commitments I never made
or worse, the ones I abandoned with the green leaves
the world I knew, but it never knew me
a few spider webs plucked at my heart strings
but these clumsy wings only know freedom
Love tiptoes in while you’re asleep
simply to sweep the wayward tears from your pillow
and sit by your bedside
all day it has been separated by the glass barricade you have constructed
you think you are seeing her but it’s only a manipulation of the truth
the bride still hidden beneath her veil
you imitate her beauty in vain attempts for freedom
but you have boxed yourself in lies
She can blow them down with a gentle breath of truth
if you let her
or you can stain your pillow with unattainable illusions
Millie has been hanging out on Austen’s bed today. Hehe. I guess she’s ready for some sort of change. Maybe I can finally put that red backpack away!
Once upon a time there was a little girl holding hundreds of red balloons… she grasped so many balloons that they fought against the forces of gravity and lifted her small body. She dangled delicately above the earth, a splash of red against the blue tapestry of the sky. Her heart delighted in the world beneath her, a collage of vibrant colors, a sea of life- greens fading into blues and purples- hues of light beyond appellation. A divine symphony of life radiated from the ground. Her heart strings danced to the rhythm of the earth’s melody, mingling with the hundreds of balloon ribbons.
Sometimes I visit her up in the heavens, cradled by her faith in the red balloons, humbled by the world’s beauty- the radiance which is forgotten with proximity.
Tonight, as I sit in my car on Monument Avenue, I feel as if I am waiting for something that is never going to come. A nostalgic anticipation for a feeling I once knew; however the red balloons which represented the vehicle to this sensation have been deflated by fears and doubts- thousands of little pinholes in the latex skin of misplaced faith.
I feel close to God, yet far away from where I should be. Discontent and restless, I am absorbed into the viscous river of my thoughts, as I utter emotional words to my celestial husband. A wayward thought heeds the passersby and traffic to my left, but I am reminded that I am only a guest in a strange land- thus I am not bound to the fetters of their transitory fashions and acceptable conducts.
The clock reads 12:34am, but my heart reads eternity.
My soul is aching. I find myself striving, binding myself to the familiar shackles of worry and mundane appeasement- a vanity which reaches deeper than the external; it sinks its fishing hook into the heart, rotting flesh from the inside out.
You died for my freedom; You died to be my red balloons… so what am I doing here, tying my shoelaces to the ground?
I stretch out on the bed of grass blades, pushing each blade silently into the ground. The sun’s blanket seduces me with its warmth. The eternity of this glowing moment kisses my nose and promises sleep.
Ashley and I used to come here and throw pebbles across the glass surface of the lake. Hers would skip across the hazel plane before settling quietly into the mysterious murk; meanwhile, mine would plunge from my fingertips and disrupt the water’s eloquence. Angry ripples would interrupt the water’s self-possession.
Ashley would meet me with those soft pitying eyes, and I would wish so desperately to be her. Her golden hair mingling with the wind, and her eyes always seemed capable of hiding so many secrets. I still feign apathy, but I cannot satiate my craving to know the surreptitious thoughts which tiptoe like shadows through the cracks of hazel in her cobalt iris.
Ashley used to tell me that I was the other half of her soul. She claimed that God looked down from Heaven and realized that He had forgotten something when He made her, and so He sent me. In spite of my entreaties, Ashley never could articulate what attributes God put in me that she did not already possess.
My dad always said that I contained the confidence which Ashley lacked, but I have never felt assured of myself about anything. While Ashley would sneak out with different shadowy figures each night, I would tear into books- searching for friends who were incapable of abandoning me to my own thoughts. Whereas Ashley champions her wounds before the world without allowing anyone to touch them, I pretend that I am invulnerable. God must have given one of us strength, and maybe if I stand long enough like a tree in the surf, the waves will back off… or I will crumple to the earth and be absorbed into the sandy loam. After all, Goethe did say that “all is born of water, all is sustained by water,” and someday maybe I will return to it. The question is will I skip calmly across the still surface, or plunge desperately in a belligerent protest of this incomplete soul.
I may never know what happened to the sister I used to know. Who found the festering wound and ripped it beyond repair? I thought we would break each other. In our tight rope walk of a relationship, one of us was bound to jostle the wire, but instead we found strength in our shared position. However, a third party climbed up to our height, and now I stand alone. Jesus, where are you? I long so desperately for companionship up here, but no one knows the rope like Ashley. No one has been able to find me. God, find me. Hide here with me.
Sunlight dancing on bare feet
as little blades of grass tickle toes and cling to ankles
This is my ode to the boy in the truck pajamas
My anthem for the girl wishing good-night to the moon
A melody composed to our forgotten innocence
Forts disguised as blankets
Fingers as paintbrushes
Here’s to pirates sailing across the sky
and the wild things that come out at night
I tiptoe beside your bed
and covet your dreams
race cars and flying ships
Sleep tight, little one
I will protect you from the crocodile in the closet
and the bear beneath the bed
forever mine, little one, forever mine
Page 1 of 2