there’s an open wound on main street and i wish people would stop asking about it because every question pulls the hole a little wider
something was always just a little bit wrong
a constant drip in the fridge
a fruit fly trapped in the bake case
missing corners of floor tiles
pictures hanging slightly crooked
one foot of a table unscrewed to a wobble
the rattle of the heater
smiles from those i couldn’t trust
a tiny pinprick of stress behind my eyes
every year was the year that would make it or break it
so nobody was surprised except those who couldn’t see the scuffs
last year things were supposed to be so good everyone talking mad **** about their incredible ideas
i had a few ideas of my own nobody ever had to teach me how to dream big overachieve overexert myself and fall hard
the quiche crusts stuck to the bottoms of pans
and there was no way to get the slice out without the whole entire thing falling apart
i might have been the first slice to go
but at least i got out of there
before the hand that pulled me out was the hand that dropped the pan
a glass pie plate shattered and the way things were supposed to be suddenly
over just like that
and i’m still reeling on the sidewalk staring at the empty shell of something i once loved
big hopes big dreams big plans small town too small to hold them all
every piece of my future points backwards arms of a clock working their way into the past
it’s not in how the damage was done but in how you heal from it
there’s an open wound on main street maybe if we gave south street stitches we could pull it closed
but still i question my existence as if scones and coffee and thursday mornings before sunup were the only things that gave me stability
maybe they were
maybe people pull themselves into an orbit around that which keeps them grounded
an orbit of routine and the dissonance needed to stir ice cubes in a plastic cup to create peace in the moment of chaos
or maybe the one place that always felt like home to me was just a cafe on the four corners and now there’s an open wound not so much on main street but the pocket of my heart where hope lives