This is more poetry/stream of consciousness but sue me I want to tag it
I’m going to write a bunch of stuff down because lately what’s been going over and over in my head is
I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this
I’m in church and all I can do is stare at two things
the first is the exit sign
It’s one of the only inviting things I can see except for the second thing
which is you.
They’re talking about car crashes and I know exactly what you’re thinking but you have no idea what I’m thinking, I’m thinking I got in a crash, too. My bones are fine. My toes, my neck, no bruises, no scrapes, but that thing in my rib cage –
I wonder, will that next girl you love think, it beats in twos, the syllables of your name, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-
but it stopped. Crash. I crashed into you when you swerved and we veered and spun off to the side and de-railed, I hit a wall and I hit it hard.
I crashed into your eyes and the way guitar chords and two voices blended into one, when I was thinking, I wish we were just our voices slipping through one another because voices can’t collide and snap and tear and run into each other and then run away.
I’m crashing into the way you turn and whisper into your friend’s ear, something about the harpsichord that I know you think is funny – that used to be me, my ears, but ears, those can crash into each other too when they hear things like it’s probably for the best.
That thing inside my ribs cracks, crashes harder than lightning bolts against the concrete when the kids go to the altar and your eyes, eyebrows always raised and listening, brighten. Because you’ve got a bright future and there’s hints of those pink bows and unbrushed hair in it and you’ll raise them up on your shoulders and tuck their curls behind their ears and kiss their foreheads with the love in that thing inside your ribs but it will not be with me.
It will be with someone who wasn’t afraid to give the thing inside her ribs. No matter how much I wanted to. But you deserve better. Mine doesn’t beat it seeps. Too many crashes. Too many could have beens. Too much wasted beating for others who crashed into it when it was whole. I wish I could lose it in the crash. Doctor, just take it out. It doesn’t work anymore. It got swallowed up in memories and now all I do is chase my yesterdays, because in my yesterdays I hear your laugh but in my tomorrows all I hear is the echo of when we said goodbye.