Labels

She broke up with him, you know, she says casually over the phone. Decided she had no feelings left and now they have to sell the house. Why were they looking at rings just last month, and he's devastated of course.

I see Polaroid snapshots of a magical summer swirling past me one by one. A narrow couch in another land and eyes surprised by what they'd discovered in the darkness. Promises of strings untied, drunken dances through the row of sunny dawns, always those narrow beds and quiet reassurances, until guilty tears and bleeding hearts as the August night grew dark again.

The City won, then. I ran straight into the bright light and never looked back because what was there to see that could ever compete. You pick your poisons.

Other people's demands for a perfect life seem foreign.

Houses and gold bands aren't forever, either.