Romance in a parallel universe
In his mind I am the scholar, the teacher,
his charmingly witty 'sex-bomb' always two steps ahead. In my reality
I am dragging behind,
a limp limb.
Trailing through the dirt.
Broken.
He tells me I make him happy,
My response is dripping with sarcasm.
My words, careless razors, clip his face daily.
Each fibre of me is a clanging pot in a crowded kitchen,
hot chaos.
I am lashing out and caving in.
But everything he sees is beautiful.
Some days I think it is worth it,
just to see him smile like that. Like he really believes in happiness.
He tells me the only future he can see has me in it.
My future is like the Easter Bunny, or Father Christmas.
Which is to say, I used to believe in it,
one time I swore I saw Santa's boot disappearing through the doorway.
I used to put cookies out, carrots for the reindeer.
Rudolph's nose stained the bottom of our bucket red. I cried when I turned 21.
Every day is just another 24 hours to get through.
I am working on wanting some kind of future.
But when he said that, I cried too.
In his universe we are The Future.
His world is desire.
Mine, right now,
is survival.