Something brave from your mouth

I wish I could show you the joy in mending. I wish you could see already, believe it whole heartedly. Know that breaking in two is necessary to build a straight back. Shedding the skin that grew without much notice. Shedding the past that left an imprint inerasable. The lines on your face become a testament to the myths you have seen. The deep wrinkles that surprised you carry the burden of pain. The sight is no longer sharp, the heart no longer firm in its aperture that sets the vessels in motion. Your soul chipped, lies on the pavement, careless passers-by trample, flatten, unexpectedly liberate. Moulding into the cracks of the concrete, the spirit learnt the most necessary: the world is much too dangerous. See yourself mostly unequipped to face the evils that turn out to conquer.

You look to her with teary eyes and ask: how will I know? He looks back and starts off with a story. This to you is familiar, the characters are sweetly innocent, the setting reminiscent of a time you remember to be perfect. She seamlessly wipes her cheeks from the cold tears that trickle down to arrive with a salty sensation at her mouth. He hangs his head broken. The ending was never as imminent as it was that afternoon. The winds whispered through the yellow leaves of the trees outside. The window fogged up quicker, the sun barely made it through to the living room floor. The cups are now clenched with both hands, the steam sooths the lies that leave these young mouths. Insincere and hurt, painful and injured inside and out. Piercing words are thrown, civilities are forgotten for the moment, places are changed, something as simple as boys and girls gets lost or tossed all around in the world. In this world. The memory has the sole power, the force that softens the parting words. But the hearts are hardened and unable to open. Wishing to never have to share sideways glances, never have to share the future, never have to share the past. Only these toys stay to remind, stay in the room that is empty, stay cold and lifeless, untouched for years, decades, unloved eternally. His head hangs in inconsolable sadness, she whimpers endless.

I stand outside looking in, baffled by the things that you talk of. The pain that hangs above your head is gaining a visible outline. I can see its colours, the shapes it takes. Futile to comfort, unable to wipe the sadness from your days. The nights are the worst, they bring a cool breeze that no shelter protects you from. Those nights torture me also. Confess but there is little relief. Drench your body in the cold ocean but the waves cannot wipe the past clean. You are left with your mistakes, I am left with mine. The girl in your dreams is left unable to mend her ways. The boy that you think yourself to be is left misplacing his ways. Then I watch as you collide, the past with the future, the girl with the boy, the sorrow with the pain. Wrongful in its judgements, the hapless love examines the circumstances. Only descends when fate is looking the other way, descends on hearts that are unready, lives that are unformed wholly. Gather much wisdom for there is oil spilled on this fire, there is scope for an imminent crash. Fatal meeting of punctured souls. On the table where you danced you will lie in torn clothes, begging me to swing you way back south, begging me to sing you something brave from my mouth.

 

And I will. This is how you will know, I will. In that instance the truth will show for a moment. You will see how quickly you can break then mend painstakingly. I will watch you with a straightened back and readied heart. You will need to reach for the harness in my hands. When you are ready. My sole desire to show you truly. Show you uncovered. Reveal in its full glory, trumpet the triumphs of its long journey, uncover the blemishes and shout to you with all my conviction: that there is joy. Joy in the mending. These are things brave enough to sing from my mouth. Now they should sing from yours.