by: Sophie Turton
“You have indecisive eyes”, I said. Sometimes green, other times hazelnut brown, they were intriguing, often misleading. I never saw them cry, even when the mountain toppled and the sea ran dry.
You said “I hate you” to mask “I love you.” Do you remember the look on the shop assistant’s face that valentine’s day with the giant cookie that proclaimed your hate? I said you were funny, she said you were mad. You said “I love you” when you felt nothing. Hate is too strong, reserved for those who matter when they shouldn’t, rarely for those who don’t when they should.
We said it was us against the world. No one understood like we did and for that time I was every god in Zeus’ army. I said you had to ride the roller coaster and you did it just for me, even when you felt ill. You said it wasn’t my fault when you vomited all over yourself (and the unsuspecting person directly beneath you). I said “sorry”. You said “sorry”. We, the perpetual sorry.
You said “right now” every time you thought that I looked particularly beautiful; you shouted it across a petrol station one time when I knew that I didn’t.
I said the world is doomed, you said everything is cyclical and I understood too late to tell you so. The world will remain beautiful, even after everything that is known is gone and the sounds of the rivers and the birds and the seas claim back their former glory.
You said without dreams we are nothing but you were scared of yours. I said, “Why do you wander the streets at night?” You said that I didn’t understand. You spoke many truths that I denied because I was too young to admit that I didn’t know and too stubborn to discover why.
You said it was none of my business, if you chose to sleep all day what was it to me? I said that you were business. How silly, to believe anyone else could be your own business and to invest so much energy in the emotional hard sell.
You said I was crazy, not to me, but bad news travels like electricity, if the right wires are connected, and hits harder than lightening. I can’t disagree, I have a writer’s mentality, as do you; you paint the world on an acorn, the details are minute.
You said “All the best”. I said “Take care” and the path of our mutual life ended there. Silence followed. The time passed anyway.