The Joy Scribbles

I wanted to say I was falling in love with you. But I wondered why love would be described as Falling. Would I be like a fallen city? Knocked down barricades, burned down houses, broken women and children, dead men? Conquered? Am I a thing to be conquered? A Fallen empire? something long forgotten? Just a leftover version of myths someone proved correct? Hidden away in rubbles of old alters were he worships me or dusty history books. No one even reads history books any more. Or am I more like a tea cup? Fallen off a shelf while I dusted my mother's cupboards, shattered into so many pieces I swept up and hid in the Pit Latrine. I wonder if she will ever figure I broke it. Is that what will happen? Will I break if I fall in Love? Will someone sweep me up and hide me? Because I am falling for a boy and it feels a lot less like falling. A lot more like flying. Or floating.

I've been trying to scrub out the love letter you wrote in my heart.  New wounds open above the old, scratches and scabs turn into scars that never heel.  So I tried to bath them in liquor and hide them in sin, but I still remember that some time, 'long ago a boy told me he likes the way I sometimes cry at silly things like not being able to find my favorite ice cream.  I've tried planting things you do to annoy me over it.  like chewing your nails, snoring when you're drunk; smelling like red wine and Marlboro cigarettes and a hint of weed; like telling me you can't remember why you ever fell in love with me; like "come on baby you're not shining, shine for me". But nothing grew, Nothing but an annoyance that I sent you a text last night to which you replied "K". despite the fact that I said I love you.

On some days I craddle nothing more than smiles and laughter. Nothing more than dragonflies and unicorns. Bits of magical sing song flowers that won't stop to hum to me "God said he loves you" I can't help but believe that even I, this terrible human, is worthy of someone.

On some days the rain begins with subtle hints and on other days it simply pours. But it always ends in playful rainbows, bright sunny skies, and clear white clouds. You, My darling are like rain. Your dark days are not the best of you.