for a thousand more.

When you proposed you didn’t have a ring, and it was not pancakes, it was egg. It was not fairytale-like or slow paced romantic. It was late morning and you smelled like penicillin. Your hair was crazy curls and you hadn’t shaved for like a week. You blurted, “what if you changed your name into Mrs.C.” I was stunned, offended, my egg burnt. I said you can’t say things like that, smelling like that, looking like that. First take a shower, get a ring, and ask on bended knee. You said nonchalantly: my knees hurt.

a thing about you.

I looked at your face while you were sleeping and this habit of mine I could not seem to let go. You looked so peaceful and pretty. What is it about you that got me feel like I was coming home?

If we’re a couple of peasants in the southern of France, I’d pick out berries with you and bake pies, bear your babies.

You opened half of your left eye and smiled. But you didn’t want to embarass me so you pretended to go back to sleep.

You’re just so sweet.

lobotomy.

i want to forget my life, the whole thing. i’m aware of the good times but how the brain works it’s all bad. i just want to forget them all. not starting anew no just a blackout yes that’s what i want. the blackout.

circa.

you wouldn’t let me help you with anything.

you wouldn’t let me help you with your shoes. instead, you asked me to warm up the car and wait there. i felt like a burden already, something you carried on your fractured spine, just to keep certain things intact, complete, a whole, and not falling apart.

when you finally climbed your jeep, you wanted to make sure that i was okay, that i didn’t have to drive you. you said you were fine and you’d be home right before supper. i said i was fine driving you with so much air in my mouth that i wasn’t sure you heard.

you looked at me smiling, and said nothing else for the rest of the drive.

i remember that one time you were this silent, we too were in a long drive home from your parents’ house. we had dinner with your family. you were great with them. you played Christmas songs on the piano and they sang to them. from the outside in, it was beautiful, like a lifetime move. you finally brought home a girl they liked and you were nothing but loving and kind. you brought laughter into that house.

but the drive home was long and silent. it’s too quiet even with the radio on. there was commotion on the street, i tried to see what happened, but when i looked at you, see if you see what i saw, your eyes were icy glass, staring straight at the road ahead as if it’s our future in front of you, and you need to be extra careful.

i said, i love you.

i meant to comfort you but i guess i was trying to comfort me, too.

you turned slowly and smiled at me, you didn’t say a thing.

but i could hear it. i could hear what you were saying: i have only this life, sometimes it doesn’t even belong to me, that life.

your eyes looked sad.

this fame, it’s a horrible horrible thing and it’s going to affect you for years to come.