Expiry Date

But I treat my hearts as if it’s a child, “it’s just a scratch, now get back up that tree or else you’ll forever have a fear of climbing.” I’ll misjudge the weight of my uneasy steps on a rooftop or forget how horrible it was to be rolled up in salt water when wave after wave tried to keep me for itself. Every year I’ll still return to the sea to collect shells and feel the water hug me after I had been away so long. As if nothing had ever happened. As if the scar on my leg was a peace offering from the coral reef after I intruded its home with the knocking of my body as the waves unabashedly threw me down.

I’ll admire cacti too closely even after hours spent fighting the burn of invisible spears after they tried to warn me that they’d prefer to be left alone and that that’s how it had been for their fathers and their fathers’ fathers. For centuries they had needed no comfort other than the reflection of suns and moons on a desert floor.

But I was born with a curious heart and curious hearts might seem brave but all they really are is scared of the unknown. I could fall from every treetop; I can feel the trickle of regret after trying to open a can with a knife. I could learn my lesson the hard way after stretching my pupils to take in more of the bright lights I can feel moving under my skin. I could feel the cold burns of Loneliness every time I re-invite it back into my bed after finding out you are just the same as everyone else. That all your words had an expiry date and now every thought of you curdles in my stomach. There was no warning, no sourness pinching at my tongue, so I swallowed you whole and now you’re eating a hole right through me.

You make it look so easy. And I was a fool for you.

But darling, I'm easily fooled.

Luckily nothing opens your eyes quite the way disappointment does.