Don’t you know love’s my new aesthetic
Please don’t say you find it pathetic
When you break my heart with the sharpest words
My love for you is my anaesthetic
Jen biroed a map on the back of Magda’s hand and walked away smiling. Magda stayed sitting in the park, hand in her jacket hidden from the rain. Then she thought twice and licked the ink away. Her hand was red from rubbing but now her eyes were dry.
I should have written a love letter, I should have written a love song. I should have said how my heart broke of happiness, how it sang with a song of a knife on crystal glass and then broke.
I should have done more; I should have regretted less. I should have said what I thought, said what I saw, the fireworks shooting and the stars falling across the sky, the colours when I closed my eyes and was elsewhere.
I should have gloried in the weathers, the snow that was you, the rain that was you, the low dark clouds that would split and break and split away to show the blue light shining through.
I should have been less thoughtless, I should have done more and regretted less.
So I decided.