𝐒𝐚𝐦
The dreaded day came around sooner than expected. November 11th. The day of remembrance. The day people celebrate pride and love for soldiers. The day I hide my feelings and act as if twelve years ago never existed.
I stared at the text on my screen. Seen. What was I expecting? An I love you for telling her the same thing multiple people would have told her on that day? The day she once said she hated the continuous messages.
I chucked my head back, letting out a groan as I let my thoughts consume my brain. Suddenly I was that fifteen year old again.
I looked over to the line next to me as we celebrated soldiers. There she was in all her beauty. Her hair swaying in the wind, playing with her cuffs like always as she was memorised by the service before us.
I didn't want to let go of her. I want the teenage love to old people in a care home. I want a family that she uses me as an example when helping our daughter with a heartbreak. I want her.
The poem she whispered to me a few days ago played over in my head. The words fell so easy from her lips and my brain pinned it down like it was the most important thing for me to know.
"I don't know much about how to label the things I feel. All I know is that when I look at the sky, I see freedom. When I look at the dirt, I see breakthrough. When I look at the ocean, I see serenity. And when I look at you, I see everything"
I looked back to the speakers in front of us, holding the small tears in my eyes. I don't want to hurt her. But I have to like the people we celebrate today. Although my actions won't be celebrated.
Sooner or later, she'd never be mine again. I am going to never hear the Arctic Monkeys lyrics she knows better than her name fall from her lips. Hold her hand. Kiss her lips. Spin her around.
Sooner or later, she'd hate me. I am going to hate me.
I came back to reality, feeling that twisting in my heart. I never forgot that poem, I never will. Everything about today is ironic. We wear poppies but all I see is the roses she had all over her room.
I eventually decided to make my way out of my bed. Throwing on a jumper and adidas jacket, planning on spending my day writing by my piano and guitar.
I stared blankly at the notebook in front of me, no ideas coming to mind until one little world struck a whole song.
"Mary, what looked like a mirage
Made of glimmering silver in sunken eyes
It was actually there in the palm of my hand
But your existence is widely debated
I'm godless and wrecked
But I can't live by those stakes The semantics are totally outdated
And the love I had is never enough
It bores me and leaves me frustrated
I'm the last to make it home
I'm the last to call it off
I'm the last to make my bed
And last to bring home the bread
And last to make it home
Mary, you were online
The sociopathic part of me
Hit the "like"
In the hopes I'd coax you out of my derelict fantasy
A bump in the road
Turned into a fissure I currently live in
Though I am a soundboard to some
With myself I am not so forgiving
I'm the last to make it home
I'm the last to call it off
I'm the last to make my bed
And last to bring home the bread
And last to make it home
I'm the last to make it home
I'm the last to call it off
I'm the last to make my bed
Last to bring home the bread
Last to make it home
Mary, looked like a mirage
Glimmering silver in sunken eyes"
Today is a cursed day.
Shirley Fender can always cheer you up although. I ran downstairs, to sit with my mum with a can of larger like old times.
"You okay pet? Heard you going at a song for a while and I know what you're like. You project into music love" She asks as I sit down, opening the can.
"I'm okay mum, just had an idea" I calm her worries.
I spend most of the night, on the sofa making stupid jokes with my mam. Forgetting the cursed date although it played over and over in the back of my mind. November 11th.
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how we feeling about more and more of the emotions carried into adulthood are revealed? arabella's side to this day is coming very soon. talk to me about your thoughts so far. love you all - ash x