we used to dream the biggest dreams we used to dream the biggest dreams

Photograph

I don’t think I should have told you. You just looked at me like a haunted house, that sad, wind-furrowed empty. Every day the same thing, every day I do my best to break your heart, and it cracks and creaks and crackles, but it never breaks. Every day I want you to hand me poison in the chalices of flowers, yet everyday you bring me your crippled flowers of forgiveness, and when you speak, your voice is bruised like a ripe nectarine. In fairness, I ought to say that we were distinctly happy, once.

I don’t think I should have told you. You just looked at me like a haunted house, that sad, wind-furrowed empty. Every day the same thing, every day I do my best to break your heart, and it cracks and creaks and crackles, but it never breaks. Every day I want you to hand me poison in the chalices of flowers, yet everyday you bring me your crippled flowers of forgiveness, and when you speak, your voice is bruised like a ripe nectarine.

In fairness, I ought to say that we were distinctly happy, once.



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February, 2012