simplicity

Say what you will about the sweet miracle of unquestioning faith. I consider a capacity for it terrifying and absolutely vile.

I kissed you as hard as I could and whispered “I love you” in your ear and I smiled and then I told you that I wished I had never met you and I could see the confusion and hurt dripping down your face from the furrow in your brow. You asked why and I told you that you were etched into my bones and mixed in with the blood in my veins. Your voice was caught in the sky and your laugh was intertwined with the stars. I was a wreck before I met you. I think you saved me. I was on fire and you put me out. I was falling apart and you laced me back together. I taste you on my tongue. I see you in my sleep. But we’re young and in love and we both know that never really lasts. You’re going to meet someone prettier and nicer and smarter who finds that spot on your neck, where you love to be kissed, on your second date. And you’re going to love her. And I’ll slip from your mind, but you’ll always be in mine. Or maybe you won’t meet someone else. But you’ll find yourself thinking about other things before you fall asleep, things that have nothing to do with me and the color of my eyes. And you’ll start to realize that you really hate the way I laugh too loud and how I curl my hair around my finger when I’m nervous. You’ll get tired of finding me on the bathroom floor and cleaning blood from the sheets. The things you loved about me will get twisted in your mind, they’ll fade away and make your skin itch. You’ll get sick of it all and leave. Or maybe, we’re so in love that that could never happen. But something will happen. I’ll meet your mother and she’ll see that my dress is too short and that I’m not good enough for you and she’ll introduce you to her friend’s daughter, the one with a scholarship, who has glasses and pretty hair and volunteers at the animal shelter every thursday for 6 am to 12 pm. Or maybe you’ll get into college on the other side of the country. You’ve always liked warm weather. And I’ll stay here because we both know I’m not good with change. You’re the only thing that makes me happy but this is bound to end and the fire will start again and I’ll fall apart like I used to. I can’t breathe without you. I’m just waiting for the day my lungs cave in on themselves.