Ours
May 6, 2014 at 5:16am
How
appropriate
and
utterly absurd;
Two
artists meeting,
uncovering
truths of soul,
and
blowing off the dust
of
a million evaporated tears.
In
one puff,
happening
suddenly...
Like
turning your ankle
in
a hole you did not see.
Thinking
time and again,
Where
has this been hiding?
Wondering
how possible
or
real can it be...
Something
akin to a childhood fable,
A
fairy tale,
A
perfect seashell on an endless beach
of
broken dreams.
To
glide a chiseled
flawless
path:
Ha
ha, you knew better!
Every
writer understands,
the
most supreme script
has
that element of darkness.
Always
an evil queen
passing
a poisoned apple.
And
knowing who we are,
and
what we are as well,
coming
as no surprise.
Like
the most intricate detail,
our
love like a motion picture...
The
one teen girls and young couples
flock
to see,
and
pay to see again,
and
again.
Why
would it not be this way,
So
perfect?
But
it's ridden with wounds
from
bloody, broken arrows.
some
painful moments
where
the happy child falls
holding
her bent, bleeding knee
and
crying.
Where
lover's think again,
Wonder,
Silently
fear...
A
bath even warm and soothing
can
easily drown one.
Cast
roughly atop the water
even
a fish can die.
Scars
can still kill
If
we allow them power to strangle...
The
hope lies in the storyteller...
It
is we who do the writing...
Not
fate, or hate,
or
her...or him.
Not
people or places,
Only
two of us.
Pains
and past can not write our story.
The
epic tale of wounded hearts
cursing
all
does
not exist.
We
are not a slave
To
drama saying,
"This
is too hard, too weird,
Too
painful...I must go onward alone."
In
the most wonderfully creative portion
of
my brain, heart and soul,
I
sit hunched over in the darkness of present,
feverishly
penning the rest of our lives.
Because
love is worth,
not
only the creation of our story,
but
the recording and rereading of it.
It
means that much to me.
Its
not just any story,
or
any love...
It's
ours.
-K.M.Q.F.
5/6/14
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