If you sit on the edge, the wood shakes you when the trains go by. It makes me feel like the plastic dentures Johnny got Granny as a joke one … Continue reading All my thoughts are winding
The music crackles and he takes my hand for the very first time. The record spins, he spins me with it. We laugh. We dance. We kiss. His song is on repeat.
It becomes our song.
It plays at our wedding.
It plays our daughter to sleep. She plays it herself when she is sad. When she leaves home the house feels empty so we fill the rooms with music.
It plays as we grow old.
It plays when he is ill.
It plays at his funeral.
It plays when I get sick too.
The music crackles and he takes my hand for the very last time.
Nature sends storms and man builds shelter. At first he uses Nature to build and then, over time, creates his own materials. Concrete Jungles conquer the real ones and Man harnesses Nature. He takes the animal features he most desires and paves over wilderness. He creates light when Nature is dark and travels further than he can walk.
Things begin to die. Nature waits. She is playing a long game and watches Mankind tear themselves apart. When they are gone Nature’s green fingers grow through cracks in the concrete.
She cannot be harnessed, tamed or conquered. And she will endure.
Lights flash in the dark. There is a deep, thunderous rumble. Insults rain down. The media storm has hit.
She covers her face and hurries to the cab. The driver hits some of paparazzi with the door as he opens it for her. He speeds away before she has fastened her seat belt. He is used to this, this is LA.
He sees her trying not to cry and feels a twist of sympathy. It’s easy for a person to get lost inside controversy.
He wonders if the man she slept with is getting the same treatment. He doubts it.
Luck turned to Fate and said, “What should I do?”
“Whatever you want,” Fate smiled because she knew already. Luck took Fate’s hand and a man missed his train. He cursed them both and sat to wait for the next one. Luck smiled at Fate and a gust of wind blew a ticket from a woman’s lap. It came to rest under the bench of a man who’d missed his train.
He retrieved it, she thanked him. Her train pulled in to the station and he was glad he’d missed his. Fate kissed Luck and they boarded the train together.
He shattered her heart. Shards of it crunched under his boots as he left. She tried to pick it up, piece it back together, but every time she touched it she bled.
There was glass in her skin and splinters of anger in her pain. The floor trembled and pieces of her heart rose with her rage. She sent them to find him, like a plague of angry locusts, a swarm of broken dreams come to claw at his skin.
He bled a little. She bled far more.
And still he did not love her.