Fallen Hero Complex
It’s not you, is it. Smoking blindly and drawing a map finely in spilled sugar with one hand while tugging on the fabric bunched at your leg with the other. Even now you want to escape. What route would you take? I’ll go with you. Fuck, take me with you, and this time I’ll be the sidekick. You’d try to run, I know. Step to one side, then the other and I’ll be right there trying to keep rhythm until we both end up dancing…
You weren’t mine to rescue, you said, the unnatural white of your eyes red. You said, again and again, reinforcing those walls daily, and there I was bright and early every morning with a sledgehammer and a smile. You weren’t mine to rescue? Well, did you ever once consider that you were rescuing me?
I know, I know, you hate clichés…or maybe it was just me.
My watch pinches the skin on my wrist. Caught like you could never be, pain like it was. I can’t move and call your name and have it not be you. So I’m stuck. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, catch a scaredy-cat by the toe.
C’mon, man, this is childish.
Then again I was young once. You probably never were. Hell, in all the important ways I looked up to you.
Well…look at that, sharp shoulders curl and sigh, your once sweet face gone sad. That time you called me sensory overload? You played it off with the usual moody awkwardness while long black lash shadowed darker still over sharp cheekbones, mouth’s bow damp from your tongue and hard work, your breathing all over the place. And I’m the one who was sensory overload? Damn, kid.
I want to tug on your sleeve until your coat slips off your shoulder and pull you in. Now. I want you to hold me back like you never would.
And you never can.
'Cause I left my savior to the goddamned reaper and could only bribe a caretaker to leave tech mags and chocolate instead of the minty smokes you punished yourself with. Only the dead should taste ashes. And I’d rather you suffer through Scottish rain and my mother’s incense, remember?
When we both fell and needed air, that was the one time you kissed first…
It’s not you.
I whisper your name.
Again and again.
Then louder until it’s you.