"And let’s say I took your hand in a crowd because I thought you were someone else. I would be the girl with messy hair, but I don’t even know what you look like. I fall over a lot, so maybe I fell. grabbed your shoulder, your wrist, your elbow; you saved my life. let’s say violins were playing. they never play in real life, but this isn’t real life I’m talking about anyway. maybe not violins, a single piano harmony, a cello, a silence more beautiful than any manufactured sound. I would stutter out a thank you, a hello, or maybe I’d just smile and let my body do whatever it is bodies in love do.
Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe in anything, let alone people. the spaces in between my words always spell out a goodbye. there’s no romanticism in it, no poetry or beauty, there is just endless talk of sad things, of things I’ve always been afraid to say.
Somehow this all leads to me telling you the story of my life. I’ve never been good at telling stories; I get sidetracked. I get annoyed at myself and I forget what I’m trying to say. sometimes I lie. sometimes I tell the truth, but I make it sound like a lie. and what happened that summer when you were fifteen? you would ask me, trying to get me back when I suddenly stop speaking. I would shake my head, all things forgotten and far gone, and start over. maybe a few hours later I would remember, grab bits and pieces and make them fit together again. I would say, I went to the fair and ate five caramel apples, or, that was when I lost everything.
I leave a trail behind me wherever I go. it’s not that I want to find my way back, just in case, or even that I just want someone to find me, for once. it’s just that I like the feeling of being remembered. I feel it. I feel it like leftover sweetness.
It gets dark, cold. you wouldn’t offer me your coat because you’re just not that kind of guy. besides, your coat would look terrible on me anyway. we stand a distance apart, our favorite books and photographs in between us. that distance keeps me from running. that distance keeps it safe. it’s beautiful here, you would say. or maybe I would say it. or maybe it goes without saying. streetlights and stars, cement and water, foundations of beauty."
/
colinh
