poem
The Velvet Thread
(museum of a party you can’t return)
Have you ever thrown a party and invited all of your close friends
just to listen to complaints about one person until the night’s end?
Every hour, a new paper cut that left behind a sting until you couldn’t pretend—
a beautiful night that ended in a phone call and wounds that took years for me to mend.
Standing in heels and a blue velvet dress, dressed to impress, but all I did was get depressed.
Whispers overtaking the air near my head—I’m still not sure if it was chess or just a test.
Instead of guessing, I chose to just stand there, pretending not to know what was said,
a gentle pull to the fabric causing me to notice the unraveling of a loose thread.
In full transparency, I still recall every word that fell off of your lips—
half-truths masquerading as daggers. I still wonder if you knew you aimed at my heart.
Two of my friends stayed the entire weekend after you left, to make sure I didn’t fall apart—
memories I’ve stowed away. Easier to just leave them behind inside of a crypt.
You always knew how to make a mess just in time for you to walk away,
leaving me behind to clean up the wreckage inside the chaos your indecision makes.
This far in, it’s safe to say that each of us made our own careless mistakes,
but this one right here—this was what made you, me—us break.
Years of time stand between the versions of us here and the versions of us then.
Looking back won’t take it away or make the memories themselves soften.
Sometimes they linger, scattering themselves around like vibrant spring pollen.
I stare at the sky, and the sun stared back—I whisper my hopes as a bargain.
Maybe one day, we’ll figure out how to bury the story inside of a memory garden.
just to listen to complaints about one person until the night’s end?
Every hour, a new paper cut that left behind a sting until you couldn’t pretend—
a beautiful night that ended in a phone call and wounds that took years for me to mend.
Standing in heels and a blue velvet dress, dressed to impress, but all I did was get depressed.
Whispers overtaking the air near my head—I’m still not sure if it was chess or just a test.
Instead of guessing, I chose to just stand there, pretending not to know what was said,
a gentle pull to the fabric causing me to notice the unraveling of a loose thread.
In full transparency, I still recall every word that fell off of your lips—
half-truths masquerading as daggers. I still wonder if you knew you aimed at my heart.
Two of my friends stayed the entire weekend after you left, to make sure I didn’t fall apart—
memories I’ve stowed away. Easier to just leave them behind inside of a crypt.
You always knew how to make a mess just in time for you to walk away,
leaving me behind to clean up the wreckage inside the chaos your indecision makes.
This far in, it’s safe to say that each of us made our own careless mistakes,
but this one right here—this was what made you, me—us break.
Years of time stand between the versions of us here and the versions of us then.
Looking back won’t take it away or make the memories themselves soften.
Sometimes they linger, scattering themselves around like vibrant spring pollen.
I stare at the sky, and the sun stared back—I whisper my hopes as a bargain.
Maybe one day, we’ll figure out how to bury the story inside of a memory garden.