I know you didn’t believe me when I said
my scars didn’t have a story or that I never
cried because of nightmares or that not speaking
to my father was the best decision I’ve made.
But would you believe me if I said that
listening to the songs we sang along to
gives me chills in the best kind of way,
or reading the letters you wrote me puts the
summer we fell in love back into my heart?
Would you believe that when I’m weakest
the words you whispered in my ear as we laid
beneath the stars pick me right back up again?
I was never one to believe in fairytales
until you became my happily ever after.

She grew up accepting the backhanded slap
of her mother’s words and the weight of her father’s silence.
When she turned 16 she got her first pair of red heels,
a gift from her parents to send her out into the world
they had envisioned for her.
She wore them to her prom, graduation,
and her first job interview at her father’s large corporation.
She even wore them to her almost wedding
before slipping through the back door.
Years later when she finally accepted
a date from the sweet boy who had lived
down the street her whole childhood life,
she wore her infamous red heels.
He smiled a bit when she entered his truck but didn’t say a word.
He drove her down to his favorite bayou.
She stared at him in awe but he didn’t say a
word as he stopped the truck and opened the
car door for her.
She hesitated before throwing the shoes and
running barefoot into her first taste of freedom.
The red heels turned black with mud as they
sank into the depths of the Earth.

I love that time between sleep and reality
because that’s where I’ll always find him.
The world is frozen in amber and I’m always
wearing white with a blue ribbon in my hair.
He comes to me in pink fog with his tie undone
because his father left before he could learn how.
My fingers fumble as I help him but when I’m done
he always grabs my hand and we waltz together.
No music plays but we’ll two-step and twirl
to the sounds of September rain and his car
speeding away, we’ll dip and spin to the noise
of me ripping his love letters and then hastily
taping them back together.
The sound of his car returning to my driveway
perfectly ends our choreographed number.
He takes me on adventures to pull the curtain
over the sun and play catch with the stars,
We whisper extraordinary tales in sleeping
people’s ears because that is how we dream.
We play in traffic lights and violin attics,
shower drains and teacup drawers.
He always places me gently back in my bed,
and as he whispers in my ear I dream of
cotton candy meadows and his green eyes.
When life decides to let me go please dress
me in white with a blue ribbon in my hair,
and I’ll dance with my beloved forever.

I am so unfamiliar
with this simple kind of joy
that I was actually scared I had relapsed
into some kind of twisted sadness again.
But I feel this silly kind of happy where
I want to try on every piece of clothing
in my closet at once, put on the music my parents
listened to when they were falling in love
and call my friends to sing along badly to them.
They’ll laugh and stay on the line for seventeen
minutes too long because they love me that much.
I feel the kind of joy where I could just float up
into the night sky, fish for stars and nap on the moon.
I had grown weary of hurricane love and am
so lucky to have found a calming ocean affection.
My stomach used to be filled with dying moths
but now the most stunning and restless butterflies
fill me with joy and I won’t ever let them fly away.

If a cigarette bloomed like a rose,

would you breathe it in the same way?

If the pills you have to take created

moths and spider eggs in your tummy,

would you still take them?

If your demons sang you lullabies,

would you still ignore them?