Don’t believe them (the books the fairy tales the
romantic comedies) when they tell you,
“Love will find a way.”
They are liars, spinning words like
the Serpent to Eve.
Love does not always prevail.
Sometimes, you are twenty and stupid and
far too drunk
and when you wake up in the morning, he is gone.
Sometimes you think, “I’ll tell him tomorrow,”
and tomorrow never comes.
Sometimes, he is the groom and you are the girl at the back of the church he once dated in college and forgot about.
Sometimes, you are the bride and because this isn’t Hollywood,
no one stops the wedding.
Sometimes, you wait up until four o’clock in the morning
for his call.
Sometimes, it never comes.
Sometimes, he dies.
Sometimes, you do.
Sometimes, you fight and yell and sob into the phone to your mother—
who married too young and never really knew how to care for you anyway—
but no matter how many dishes you throw,
you just can’t make it work.
Sometimes, he is a man when you marry him
and a monster by the time your daughter is born.
Sometimes, you drop your change in the supermarket, the mall, the
subway, and when your fingers brush as you both reach down to scoop up the scattered pennies and dimes, you feel that
electric shock.
You look into his deep graygreenbluebrown eyes and see
everything that will be: all the adventures not yet had, the promises not yet made—
and then, amidst all that unlived life, his wife (girlfriend, fiancé)
calls to him from twenty feet away
and those promises never get made at all.
Sometimes, you like him and he likes the girl
with the long blonde hair and
prettier smile.
Sometimes, he likes you and you
honestly just don’t give a ****.
Sometimes, there is no Prince Charming on a great white steed coming to battle the dragon.
Sometimes, you have to save yourself.
Sometimes, survival is the only happy ending.
Sometimes, your families are feuding and no matter how much you try,
you cannot reason with your father or mother or
whoever is keeping you apart.
Sometimes, after that, you both just die.
Sometimes, it’s all about the timing.
Sometimes, you go in one door and he goes out another,
And then you never meet.
Sometimes, you sob into your pillow and beg God to change his mind for you,
but no amount of wishing can bring him back.
Sometimes, you are separated—by culture, by Time, by
universes, by a fate that has decided to break your heart in
every way possible and then toss you out to sea just
one last time, just to see if you’ll survive.
Sometimes you never find that someone who makes your skin burn, who
drives you crazy or keeps you sane.
Sometimes, you are just lonely and then you die.
Love doesn’t always prevail.
But sometimes.
Just sometimes.
It does.