It’s crazy what you could’ve had :: Song of the day


You come to me with the phone in your hand.
You come to me with your hair curled tight.
You come to me with positions.
You come to me with excuses,
decked out out in a robe.
You wear me out.”

Some would blame the relocation, some would blame the change to a family, and still some would say we were doomed from the start. We began on borrowed time, in a rented apartment leased to me plus one that was not you. We smoked too many cigarettes and emptied bottles of whiskey and wine, together, watching black and white movies on a yard sale television, pretending to be anyone but who we were.

Made up nicknames and destinations, I wrote my name in permanent ink on the palms of your hands, and you hopped a bus to the other side of the country, away from me. You left because it hurt too much to love me, and I called you back because it hurt too much to lose you. But none of it was real, not in the day-to-day with bills to pay kind of way.

I came to you with a plus sign, an addition, a promise of a dream of family, something neither of us had ever really known. We were already married then, already committed, now under the same roof with both our names hung on the door. You offered me a drink and a laugh, a half-smoked cigarette, teetering your words in that cloudy point between too much and not yet enough. You grabbed my hand and pulled me to you, clinging, cloying, scratching at my skin. We were so very rough around the edges, so easy to tear, to break, to fall completely apart. We were never the leading actor and actress on a black-and-white screen, not us, not the way the plot played out.

We could have been so much more.

Country Feedback (live) :: R.E.M.

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