And found beauty in the loss of control.

❧

Captured in our photos were the hopes of tomorrow.

As time erased the moments broken, we held onto those unspoken.

Leaving our youth to chance, we all believed in timeless romance.

With words untold, we waited for the years to unfold.

❧

And so I left my heart in a chase so my steps I could retrace.

I searched for a place where I could understand it’s grace.

And in the midst of it all, it was your laughter I could recall.

❧

And on the eve of my sorrow, I looked back to tomorrow.

Your heart I could follow, but to me it was hollow.

Our ambitions were strong, but our intentions so wrong.

And in the words of a song, it was to our futures we belonged.

Because, I traded my soul on a morning stroll.

And found beauty in the loss of control.

❧

They simply don’t go together.

I arrived home at approximately twenty minutes after 1.
My phone rang as I lit my cigarette.
I ignored the call. It was thursday. One of the 6 days I gave a fuck less about my mobile device.

I light my cigarette with a match.
Primordial.
I wonder about my recent bank statement and am awakened by a piercing alarm.
The alarm was the feeling of my already burned skin melting in a tango of blood and tissue on my left thumb.

I had burned my thumb the night before the same way. Fire and I were like oil and water.
In my mind, the label on the matchbox read “Keep away from Dyana.”
In reality, it said “Keep away from children.”
I suppose they were one and the same.

The more I investigated this matchbox, the more I realized we could be friends.
The other side stated “Close cover – Strike gently.”
I thought of a good battered wife joke.
I chuckled.

More often than not, I enjoyed pissing off feminists.
Nothing pisses a feminist off more than a female who enjoys cooking, cleaning, and agreeing with Men.
Why is this?
I didn’t know.
No one really knew.

Feminists were a breed all on their own.
Their low-level taxonomic rank served separate from the rest.
In the book of cultural nomenclature, they were most likely classified as follows:

Phylum: Human
Species: Female
Genus: Bitchium maximus.

It had been a long day.
Digressing from a bank statement to raging feminists was not the initial plan.
I searched for Neosporin.
At this point, raging feminists and the burn on my left thumb had something in common.
They were both annoying as fuck.

As I open the door, I’m startled by a small bird fluttering uncontrollably.

It’s claws are trapped in the screen of my neighbor’s window and it’s struggling to free itself.

At first glance, I’m slightly afraid of this small animal.

Society it seems, really is getting to all of us. We have become so accustomed to our concrete jungle that we have lost all contact with nature.

The mere sight of a bird has become a foreign occurrence no longer written about in the manual book.

I snap out of it.
I love nature. I love animals.

If I could, I would move out into an empty house in the middle of a forest, far from civilization, with nothing but my thoughts and a record player.
Therefore, I will not react like my classical conditioning suggests.

I think to myself, “If I help this bird, I’ll be late for class again, and I will have broken my promise to be on time. If I don’t help this bird..”

My thought process ended there.
There was not a “don’t help” option.
I went inside and grabbed a towel, I wanted gloves but at this point the bird was no longer struggling.
In defeat, it just allowed itself to hang from it’s trapped body.

Towel wrapped around my hands, I approached the small creature, admittedly hesitant and somewhat unsure of what to do.
Somehow, in that moment, I felt as if this animal knew that I was trying to help it.
It became calm and as I wrapped this towel around it, it’s small legs began to shake.
When I tried to untangle it’s claws, the shaking stopped.
I trusted this creature, and it trusted me.

Breaking it away from the screen, I thought it would instantly struggle to get away, but it didn’t.
It stood up, leaning on my palm for support.
I began to walk down the stairs, again, unsure of how it might react.
This moment was incredible.
It was in this moment that I realized that this small creature and I were exactly alike.

For years, I too have been trapped.

But between the two of us, there was a difference.
This creature, struggled. It fluttered it’s wings in despair. It tried to escape until it consumed itself.
I on the other hand, have always waited to be saved.

As I arrived at the bottom of the stairs, this beautiful bird still held on and stood, grapsing my palm.
For a second, it was just me and this small creature.
I looked at it, raised my hand in the air.
It paused, tried to find it’s balance, and opened its beautiful wings.
It leaped into the air, fearless.
Free, once more.

It was then I realized that I too need to free myself.
I need to save myself.
I need to flutter my wings in despair and allow myself to fly fearlessly,
just as this exquisite creature did.

I walked into class on time that day.
I walked into life that day.

A tear in my tea, right through you I see.

You broke me with agility, my kindness mere utility.

Indifference for fragility, pain was your ability.

Yet in tranquility, I rise to possibility.

A trinket sinks to the bottom of the sea, much like you and me.

Deception was your key, useless was my plea.

Leaves fall from this tree, it’s my soul’s debris.

Yet against decree, I will be free.

So let us say goodbye to you and me, a trinket sinks to the bottom of the sea.

Much alike are you and I.

Beautiful moon, your white facade is ever so pure and bright.

Many times I have fallen asleep wondering what it must be like up in that lonely sky.

Much alike are you and I.

As each week passes by, you become ever more visible in my eye.

In lonely placement way up high, it’s every night that you sigh.

Much alike are you and I.

Within day you die, within night you fly.

With the stars you cry, it’s inspiration you supply.

But to the sun you lie, as every day goes by.

Much alike are you and I.

One night in the sky, it’s a good-bye you deny.

With all your might you try, the darkness to defy.

On belief you rely, it’s with light that you reply.

Much alike are you and I.

Beautiful moon, your disappearance comes ever so soon.

To loneliness in tune, it is I who is immune.

Much alike are you and I, and to this thought I still will sigh.