|welcome to my friiiiday night
||[Feb. 19th, 2005|12:50 am]
|||||ray charles and norah jones : here we go again||]|
wow, this is long. it could, i suppose, quite technically, be two,
i like tangents, though. and commas.
when she was seven
she'd pour nothing into empty teacups
sipping air like it was fresh out of the pot.
her lips touched the rim so gently you knew that she'd grow up kissing
with lipstick so boys would touch theirs with the tips
of their fingers after they'd shut the door behind them and
plush pink lingered on each finger
after each door was shut.
but you knew she'd be the kind of fourteen year old girl that would grow up
to awake next to a man with facial hair
sticking out from places she never thought they'd grow.
she hadn't noticed he stopped shaving until she woke up one morning
next to a man that didn't even look familiar
and every morning after that
she fell out of love with him.
she spent all her life learning what it's like to fall in love
but she was never prepared for the day
she fell out of it
because no one likes to admit that sort of thing exists.
but no one knew
her room was painted purple and the only man that ever made her cry tears of real joy
was miles davis with the lights off
playing songs that had nothing to do with love
but everything to do with her.
every night he'd grab her by the hand and lead her to the piano
she once knew how to play.
he'd play songs of infinity and she'd spread crimson rose petals across his solemn keys.
she'd dance in yellow ballet shoes and hum every note as if she herself had discovered it.
miles would smile a deep smile and laugh even deeper
like the wide belly of the ocean)
she'd spread her arms out like angels on black towers and watch as her petals
turned into the color of her dancing shoes.
miles would be the only man she'd tell i love you and mean it.
every night she'd ask him the same questions of heaven and constellations
she'd ask him why people always looked with their eyes at the stars
and wonder about these things.
she'd ask him why they had to look at the stars to wonder.
why it always had to be the stars.
then she'd smile back at him
listening to his piano, she'd wonder
about heaven and its palaces
about constellations and the stories they'd never tell.
miles, i love you.
and she meant it because
he was the only man that ever made her wonder without looking at the stars.
he would be the only one that would hear her sing the way cherubs smile.
he'd be the only one with her when she was alone
playing songs of infinity and humming melodies she once knew how to sing.
he'd be the only man
who saw her cry tears of absolute joy
and the only one to make her wonder.
i am too emo for words.