So maybe I had it coming.
I'd signed out early. But could you really have blamed me for it?
Because of a chicken or a blade, you had to scream at me, accuse me and treat me as nothing more than a person in your midst.
Lately, it has been silent. I blend well with silence, I do. But could you have ever imagined the thunderous chaos that have been tumultuously but placidly settling, deep right down in the pits of my stomach?
It's a familiar foreign, but nothing as much as now.
I do rejoice in the fact that soon you'll be in your new life. I take a back seat in the moments of your bonds with the people you have "chosen" to keep, and take with you on your journey. The ribbons, the flowers, the dresses, the trivial squabbles over what shades of reds and greys will flourish your day - I watch and I listen but I'm not with it.
Maybe I'd signed out early - but did you ever think that maybe, just maybe, I would like to tell you that ruby red is the best?
Home is all decked out - couches moved to make way for an arch of new life, pictures of the family framed and placed ever so affectionately to show the world. But they're not so much of my presence, flowers and frames not so much of my touches.
I'd signed out early - and my home is only a house.
Maybe you didn't know. So I can't blamed you that I'm not there to get our nails buffed and hair tousled together, or bundle flowers and carry tissue in my mini-purse. I just cannot blamed you for feeling serenely pleasant to have them but not me in everything. Maybe because you decided you were going to sign out of my life anyways.
Maybe I had it coming.
