X. Frames by the Foot
She crushed frames in the dark for the sound of it Picture frames and door frames, and now - his glasses too All went underfoot in the blue kindling light Of the run down gas house
I watch her foot smash them into the concrete, as if she wished the concrete would just open up and swallow them. Is this how much she loved him? Two birds lost in the dark. It's cold and I'm thinking about where you are. If you're okay. If you're still wearing my One Piece shirt or if you've returned to be swallowed by the cherry blossoms. Then she crushes the frame and speaks.
"What was I doing?!" I don't know really I don't even really know you, why are you asking me? Instead I say: "You broke up with my best friend and have now dragged me out to watch you destroy said friend's property." "It's not the one he wears." "Which makes it all--- better."
CRUSH
There's little left to be stepped upon, but she somehow evokes a crunching of crab apples from his glasses. "I called you here so you could make me feel better" Did his heart make that sound when she crushed him? "That's why I'm here listening to you and not saving my friend's glasses." I thought he was the one who made you feel better.
She decides this is a good time to collapse onto the gaslit floor and cry over what she broke. Is this love? Finding something you want so much you crush it, then breaking yourself over it? If this is love, I want nothing of it.
She lays herself over the glass shards Knees folded in, head tucked down, hands pressed together Her mouth was pursed together as if she was afraid her prayer would spill out of her mouth all wrong And god would hear her And give him back to her
How come in all the portraits painted in biblical times, the saints and virgins pray with a glory chipped in their eyes and their head tilted upwards? When did we learn to look down when asking for something?
She's wishing she crushed the frame that held her in And held them apart Like she did with picture frames and door frames And his frames She frames herself with "I was always so anxious, a baby bird too afraid to fall to fly." She backs herself into a corner, into a cage, into the night which she wanted everything from
What if it did matter? What if she never said what she meant? What if that was misunderstood? What if he would never talk to her again? What if he became a psychopath thirty years later and came to kill women like her to get back at her? What if she became so worried and anxious she wouldn't cook the burger long enough? What if a customer got sick because of her burger? And sued and the place would close and she would lose her job? What if the customer worked at Metropole Nuclear and got so sick he accidentally causes a meltdown at the powerplant? And the world ended with her a bankrupt, nervous wreck who couldn't even make burgers right and he a serial killer made out of a misunderstanding
And she never told him how much she loved him
What if tomorrow she woke up, and didn't want to be in these frames anymore? And she told him how much she loved him.
Instead I watched her squeeze her eyes so tight She doesn't see the lights from a smooth sedan Shine past in those broken frames' reflection










