“Subjunctive”

I wish I’d known
That you’d been hurt before
That your cold-shoulder act was just a shield
To hide the battle-scars you wore.
Like someone angrily clutching the hems of long sleeves down
Over mementos of self-mutilation,
Tattoos to remind you of things you’d rather forget.

You burned with the kind of fierce pride
That in another tongue would be called shame
For secrets that you want to scream aloud
And wish out of existence
All at once
Because you believe,
Deep down,
Those scars were self inflicted.

I wish I’d known
That you’d been made to feel like
An accessory
A statement piece
This week’s shade of black
Or the front of a Hallmark branded personal attack
A bite back.
A hammer used to break a last-ditch
Metaphor for childhood’s lack
Of autonomy.

That you had been a poem
Taken out of context
Twisted to fit a misshapen ideology
Coloured in with someone else’s dogma.

That someone took the hazel of your eyes
And branded them
“Chocolate”
Or
“Coffee”
Or
“Everything you’ve ever dreamed of for one night only”
And you were swallowed quickly like a pill
Nobody wants to risk tasting.

I wish I’d known
That you’d played Rosaline
Too many times.
That your heart was used to going
Hand-in-hand with hurt.
That you didn’t need to hear them spoken
To feel the bitter lash
Of empty promises.

Actions speak louder than words.

Darling, I wish I’d known
That you’d looked up at the Empire State Building
And felt the nauseous, headache throb
Of inadequacy.

I wish I’d known so that I could have told you
That the ocean does not need to envy the pinnacles of land.

You held me like the night and kept me warm
And in return I could have told you that
That you taste like water in the desert.
You feel like summer on cold skin.
Like a reprieve
Like forgiveness
Like the first full sentence spoken in a new language.

Darling, you can walk with your hands in your pockets
Or your hands in mine
So long as you don’t walk with your hands up,
Eyes cast down,
Ready to feel the chains around your wrists
That others’ thoughtless cruelty has trained you to expect.

I wish I’d known
That you were scared
Because I could have told you that you gave me butterflies.

22/09/14
© 2014 Bonnie Calderwood Aspinwall