I want to skip forward to the best parts,
Talking until my throat is raspy and,
drinking burning coffee at 6am as the sun rises over the line of houses.
Pale painted skin as I wait in nervous anticipation for your test to come back—
hoping that the line will read positive, and dreading the line will tell us that too.
I want to skip past our fight about the time I got too drunk, run past the part where,
I, in my self pity, collapsed against your porch door, unable to reach the cheaply made bronze.
The time I snapped at you for another self derogatory statement, trying to tell you, your scars aren’t a sign of weakness. I tried to tell you how strong you were, to stand there and live against all odds, but…
Somehow I made it about me, and at three forty two, I realized my mistake.
Red lines mark our history, and my mechanical pencil can’t erase these grades,
Signs that told me to stop, but I had no intention of leaving.
You told me you didn’t understand, why I stayed,
And I had to tell you,
It was because I couldn’t love you.
You, who loved me
And me, who couldn’t
because the heart I had failed.
but I choose to love you anyways.
a choice I haven’t regretted.
How about we skip to the night I held you in my arms and refused to let you go? Or the day I surprised you with your favorite dinner, even if I was a terrible cook, you smiled at me and we ordered pizza instead?
A choice, a choice, will those kids ever learn?
Love isn’t a feeling in your breast, or clogging your senses.
Remember how I said I wanted to skip past our fights? I changed my mind.
… those fights made us,
and so I hope you say yes, will that cute half smirk you always gave me,
when I hand you your favorite book, a ring dangling from a chain, marking my favorite passage.
Lets not chase after these next few years,
Let us just live them first.
with love,
