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The Black Mustang

Something familiar caught my eyes across the junction, and how I wish I didn't remember. It’s such an odd thing because you’d think spending time trying to forget it and having done a decent job at not remembering, would amount to your inability to recall a certain past. However, that was very much untrue today.

The shiny black Mustang. There it was, after all these years. I didn’t have to check the license plate to know it was yours, but I knew it was. Maybe I expected it to look a little older, more broken and faded like me, but it looked almost as good as the day you first pulled up into that parking lot, the day I knew you’d be the death of me. One little, visible scratch on the bonnet and you’d spend hours buffing it out. Yes, a little exaggeration there, but maybe those are the little things I missed about you most when you were gone. The way you frowned when you were upset, or the way you kept pushing your glasses back up your nose, the way you wore your watch a little loosely, and the way your hand always found mine to rest upon even while driving.

This could only mean one thing, that you were finally home. And that implied another thing altogether, that I didn’t exist in your thoughts anymore.

I found myself walking closer to the Mustang, and the closer I got, the more I remembered. This wasn’t just a car to us, it was a home on many days we didn’t have a place to go. We’d spend hours camping out with food and movies, sometimes with coffee and books. I remember the way your car always smelled like the pages of a book well-loved and used, the ones with many lines of bends on its spine, the ones with plenty of dog-ear pages that we never quite went back to finish up, and the ones that were always comforting and maybe a little tragic. After all, we remember pain better than happiness.

On good days, we spoke about anything under the sun and found solace in the simplest yet abstract ideas. It felt as though we were unbound, vast yet small, and inadequate in comparison to a world we knew so little about. On bad days, we had songs to fill the deafening silence and drove for miles in search of a destination that never quite came. Words could never fill the void quite the way your music did.

This car was the birthplace of our dreams and in the end, the very death of it too. How I wish I’d taken the usual way back home today. But today, I felt adrift, out of place, and heavy-hearted. I felt strange and I couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but I saw it all staring back at me in the reflection of the very car I loved as much as you. Because its appearance each day meant you were here and that you were gonna take me home, it meant we were gonna laugh till our jaws hurt a little, that we were gonna share a huge cup of coffee and have endless conversations. It meant that you were finally with me and that made each day worth surviving. And its absence left me just as devastated as yours did. I waited many days hoping for the familiar squeal of your tires that never quite came, I kept faith that only faded each day I was alone again.

It felt peaceful remembering you and everything about us, but it shattered me a little more. It felt like the path I was walking on had given way and I fell into the depths of an abyss, traveling in complete darkness and at the mercy of your saving, all over again.

Maybe I wanted to be lost and trapped and hurt and bled. Maybe I’d hoped you’d walk this way right now, in this very instant, and see me standing right next to the thing we once cherished. It could always go south but why did I enjoy this pain you kept bringing down upon me? It was as though I wanted to be wounded, like it didn’t matter even if I was hurt. I wanted to know what you’d choose; to embrace or ignore, to love or let go...

I guess the devil finally came out to play and in that moment I saw my deepest desire; I wanted to see you one more time, even if that encounter was bound to hurt me. Somewhere between remembering and thinking about all these things, my legs started to give way and I had to sit on the curb. Looking a little homeless and a lot broken, I knew I had to go.

As much as I craved your presence, the familiar scent of your cologne and aftershave, the tight embraces after a really long day, the way your lips curled as you whispered my name, the way you were my sanity and I was your reality, was all nothing but a dream now.

I still walk home the other way just to see if your car is still there, some days it’s gone and my heart aches a little and on other days, its presence gives me a strange sense of comfort.

Maybe it’s a twisted game, maybe the car isn’t yours, and maybe one day you’ll be there with it. All I know is that somewhere in the space between the walls of my heart and the empty lots of that parkade, you exist. Your very being fills this place with soul and maybe I need a little bit of that. And that little bit will give me every ounce of strength I need to carry on with life. Maybe one day it’ll all be gone and I will go back to my mundane routine, but I’d never stop looking for you, for us, in a crowd.

Maybe one day it’d hurt a lot less thinking about all this, and maybe one day it’d be just another black Mustang and on that day, I’ll know I made peace with a past I no longer held. Just maybe…

© Raina Rose.

I write this in hopes you’d understand one day, I write this because I cannot speak my mind, I fail to express myself in the right way, I plan to say a million things but when I speak with you, somehow I seem to lose all sense. Even right now, I thought these words will flow out of me easily, but I struggle to string them together. I have always been good with words, I’ve always been able to express myself, at least enough through my writing, but now, I can’t even seem to get that right. For the sake of us both, I’ll try.

I seem to be dead even while alive, it is a little morbid to start it all this way considering how much life you’ve poured into me. Truth is, you surround me even in your absence. You’ve painted my walls in colours I didn’t realize I’d fall in love with, I walk meadows filled with flowers that were once a memory, I hear songs of a love so forbidden and I write eulogies for the lost souls of this world. What have you done to me? All the things that were once filled with love, now stands empty, a dying memory of all that used to be. It is an understatement when I say it hurts, because you used to be such a huge part of me, and then suddenly, we both lost each other and I’m still picking up all these pieces that were supposed to be mine, and I hope you’ve found yours. I didn’t mean for this to break, I didn’t want to make you cry. It’s the first thing I promised you when we met, that I’ll always find a way to make you smile. Now, I stand stranded with an empty promise of mine.

I am sorry, for all that we’ve lost, for all that could have been and for all that we’ll never have. I wanted to do right by you, so I moved away, I created this distance because you always knew what to say. And when you said those things, I knew I’d go running back to you, to where we drove each other mad in the name of love, only to break apart even more, even messier. I cannot predict the future, nor do I have ways of knowing how it will all end for us if we tried again, but right now, this seems to be the best solution for us both and if you blame me, I accept it. I know you never would, but even if a small part of you is mad with me for all of this, then understand that I assent it. I do not walk guilt free, I am not the only victim here, and you are allowed to hate and loathe and despise me. This was never going to be easy, and all this pain I’ve caused you, I wish I could take them away from you and turn it all into smiles.

I am writing this because our conversations never go the way I imagine them to be, I keep telling myself to be as friendly and nice, and easy-going and kind but every time you come close to me, I lose all sanity. I can’t stop thinking about the way your lips curl when you say my name, I can’t help but think about the thoughts that wander your mind endlessly, the things you do that makes you, you, makes me miss you more. I am sorry for being rash, for being uptight, for being unkind, for planting doubts in your mind and heart, for breaking my promise and for letting you go.

I hope you find all the love and happiness this world has to offer and when solitude seems to come easier than the rest, don’t blame yourself either, we thrive better when we’re alone. Don’t cage those words in your head, put them down on a piece of paper somewhere, you’d thank me one day. Give all those rom-coms and love stories a break, but if you don’t, because we have a favorite genre here, make sure you catch up on as much adventurous and thrilling movies, because you can’t survive this world with just love. You’re kind, sometimes too kind to a world that hasn’t been very kind to you. Remember, you’re your own person and no one gets to push you around, be humane but don’t lose yourself while being benevolent. Sometimes, things we do hurt people and the things people do, hurts us, but don’t overthink, don’t shy away or skip moments to avoid that pain, because pain, my friend, ‘pain demands to be felt’. And who better knows that sentiment, than us…

With love always,

Rose.

© Raina Rose.

When you've gone through all sorts of alcohol you could possibly consume, when you've danced to every song on repeat a million times, when the walls start to close in on you, when you've kissed twenty different girls and still feel like shit, call me. Call me so I can bring you back home. My love, every journey has an end and even if you've set course for the wrong ones, come back home. Here, we love, we forgive, we fight and maybe drive each other crazy, but here, there'll always be love. I'll always love you despite everything you've done, despite every reason you've given me to fall out of love with you, to hate you. Come back home, it's been far too long. Come back home because my heart breaks a little everytime I see you with someone new. It breaks because you're looking for a remedy you already have. Just come back home, and we'll make this right again...

© Raina Rose.

Monday, you promised you'd come home, the door was left open.

Tuesday, a little late but I thought I could wait.

Wednesday, I went through the laundry to find your clothes, hoping they still smelled like you.

Thursday, tasted a lot like you when I emptied the bottle of bourbon.

Friday, I was sober enough to think again but you were still missing.

Saturday, I got a call asking if I'd written the eulogy.

Sunday, I realized you were never coming home again...

© Raina Rose.

Maybe I'm in a daze, not completely awake, but if I could be anywhere in the world right now, I'd be there with you...

© Raina Rose.

I tried getting you off my thoughts, out of my head and burned all that's left with sage. It was supposed to be refreshing, it felt like murder. I was supposed to be clean again, I had blood all over me. It was supposed to be soothing, I've never felt my heart rip apart this way. It was pain and agony. It should have been white but all I saw was red. Was it anger, love or hatred? I stood there frozen with blood all over the floor, memories dying one after another. I'd given you up in exchange for a life I'd be living dead...

© Raina Rose.

Maybe I don't understand, not everything, that'd be a lie. For only you'd comprehend your feelings whole and sometimes even we can't understand what we feel, so to say I completely understand would be a total lie. But I do know, what it feels like to wanna be up, to give up that sleep and be invested in a conversation, to risk being sleepy the next day than to sleep and surrender all that could have been. I've been there, those sleepy days may feel terrible but every moment, every conversation of that night keeps me smiling and lifted through the day. Sometimes, there's even a glimmer of excitement hoping for the same the following night.

© Raina Rose.

"It was an extremely normal day and I decided to ruin it by walking down his street. The sun was setting and I could see the lights turned on in his room. I sat by the pavement across his house and drifted into another world. I was sad, I felt empty since he left but seeing him every now and then bought back memories that made me smile in pain. How do I not glisten beneath the sun, my very own sunshine. I heard he was alone again, I didn't want a relationship, let alone one with a broken heart. I just needed to steal another glance to paint a picture of love, or what it meant to be loved. My eyes were heavy but little did I know the day had barely begun..."

© Raina Rose.