deepundergroundpoetry.com
Have you ever noticed
"Have you ever noticed how our fingers interlock together perfectly?"
The first time he said it, it was dark, and the sun was setting on more than just the day, he thinks, it's romantic, thinks it's perfect, thinks it's the first time anybody's ever held my hand.
I think it's nothing new, but maybe, if I convince myself, it could be. I try to have his mindset, try to fix the flaws I'm feeling, pretending I feel whole when I stand empty, because I have never fit in anywhere, I have never belonged with anyone at the end of the day, I'm just a girl that writes a good love poem, and I know that.
"Have you ever noticed how our fingers interlock together perfectly?"
The second time he says it, the room is quiet with the aftermath of warfare, there is almost nothing standing here, but he looks at me and takes my hand, calls me beautiful, and says he is never going to see her again, and that we will build up a city of promise of our own, but I know, here, in this town, our pollution is building, hanging black over us, close, choking, suffocating, raw.
But it is so familiar to me that I build it back up again, I take brick by boring brick, and I let him guide me, I let him take them from my hands and place them where he thinks they belong so that the next time we find ourselves in chaos all he has to say is,
"Have you ever noticed how our fingers interlock together perfectly?"
And my thoughts are gone.
"Have you ever noticed" and my trust is gone.
"Have you ever noticed" and my self-esteem is gone.
"Have you ever noticed" and my love is gone!
Because I had never noticed that we were made for each other, it never crossed my mind that we belonged together until you said it!
So the 237th time, when I have taken down the city, burned its ashes, and cleared the air of all the promise, and pollution, and the population stands in front of me when I'm staring shockstruck in the mirror, when I'm almost alone and there's nothing to say, when the music blares louder and louder
"THAT'S WHAT YOU GET WHEN YOU LET YOUR HEART WIN"
When he looks at me, for the 237th time that year like he knows it's finally over, and says,
"Have you ever noticed how our fingers interlock together perfectly?"
I give him the only ounce of honesty either of us have had in the past eighteen months and answer,
"No. I really haven't."
The first time he said it, it was dark, and the sun was setting on more than just the day, he thinks, it's romantic, thinks it's perfect, thinks it's the first time anybody's ever held my hand.
I think it's nothing new, but maybe, if I convince myself, it could be. I try to have his mindset, try to fix the flaws I'm feeling, pretending I feel whole when I stand empty, because I have never fit in anywhere, I have never belonged with anyone at the end of the day, I'm just a girl that writes a good love poem, and I know that.
"Have you ever noticed how our fingers interlock together perfectly?"
The second time he says it, the room is quiet with the aftermath of warfare, there is almost nothing standing here, but he looks at me and takes my hand, calls me beautiful, and says he is never going to see her again, and that we will build up a city of promise of our own, but I know, here, in this town, our pollution is building, hanging black over us, close, choking, suffocating, raw.
But it is so familiar to me that I build it back up again, I take brick by boring brick, and I let him guide me, I let him take them from my hands and place them where he thinks they belong so that the next time we find ourselves in chaos all he has to say is,
"Have you ever noticed how our fingers interlock together perfectly?"
And my thoughts are gone.
"Have you ever noticed" and my trust is gone.
"Have you ever noticed" and my self-esteem is gone.
"Have you ever noticed" and my love is gone!
Because I had never noticed that we were made for each other, it never crossed my mind that we belonged together until you said it!
So the 237th time, when I have taken down the city, burned its ashes, and cleared the air of all the promise, and pollution, and the population stands in front of me when I'm staring shockstruck in the mirror, when I'm almost alone and there's nothing to say, when the music blares louder and louder
"THAT'S WHAT YOU GET WHEN YOU LET YOUR HEART WIN"
When he looks at me, for the 237th time that year like he knows it's finally over, and says,
"Have you ever noticed how our fingers interlock together perfectly?"
I give him the only ounce of honesty either of us have had in the past eighteen months and answer,
"No. I really haven't."
Published 25th Sep 2012
| Edited 4th Oct 2012
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