Such Beautiful Things

For Mark. You're a jerk.

Today is just another day. It is grey, and it is wet, and you are not here. The clock reads 9:46am. It’s too early to even think about moving. I have nothing to do today. I have nothing to do any day. Nothing, except wait. Wait for you to realise that I am still here.

 

With sceptic limbs, I lay face down on this narrow bed. My dark hair covers my face, creating a web-like shadow when I open my eyes. It’s good. It keeps my vision obscure, so that it is easier for me to imagine you are there; sitting in the window seat, watching me sleep, thinking up everything you can say to me to make it right.

 

I am a vase that shatters, and sometimes I can be put back together. With sticky tape, and glue, and scotch, and Prozac. But sometimes, nothing will make it right again. The floral pattern will always look a little off from then on, and the rim won't be quite smooth. The edges will be sharp, and it won't hold water.

 

I am an out-of-tune piano, and I don't sound quite right. Sometimes, I can sound tragically beautiful, if you play the right things. But sometimes it just sounds like a drunken elegy improvised for a momentary fling. The right notes are not the right notes, but the wrong notes are.

 

You are an artist. You can make anything seem romantic. You are passionate. You are deeply flawed. Take a breath and start again. Shadow play along the walls, distracting me enough to lose control. The sweetest thing about November sunsets is the rain. You’d hold my hand, and I would say "don't let go," and you would say "never" and I would believe it.

 

Such beautiful things, such bitter-sweet memories, such lies, such heartache, such tragedy. You were my prized passion from Neverland, never seeing the forest for the trees. I was your bluebird from a city of phantoms, tongue tied and wasted, crawling along a poison ivy bridge waiting for the fall.

 

Do you remember the innocence? Can you believe the pain? Seven days and seven nights of distorted confessions, love-filled dreams, empty conversations, justified passion... seven days, and then it was over. Seven days, and I knew you. Seven days more and I didn't.

 

If we ever meet again, remember such beautiful things. Because I can't forget.

Reviews

[deeeeedd]

wow this was amazing...

[r]

Wow. This is amazing, and I love the imagery, the metaphors. The emotion is really there. It blows up in your face, snarling around you like a hungry wolf [wow am i messed up in the head] You can't miss it, is what I mean. I LOVE it.