Boston


And my heart broke when I got back to Boston
And you weren’t there with me.
My heart broke further when I found it wasn’t really me
sitting in my $2,000 seat.
I could feel my heart squeezing and relaxing,
Wrapping tightly around itself,
The valves suffocating each other,
And then releasing suddenly to gasp for air.
These deadly contractions angered me
As I knowingly stepped off of the airplane
And into the dark reality that was now somehow mine,
Unjustly mine.

I wished it were a soft and comfortable grey reality,
A posey melody –
Or better yet, a vibrant, screaming, peachful orange.
But instead it seemed to lack any color at all.
Instead it was just dark,
Sometimes a squeamish, yellow fabric
That wrapped around me so tightly
That I could no-longer believe in a reality
So full of peaches and raspberries
as the one I had just left seemed to be.

I walked into the arms of my father as he smiled
And secretly smelled my hair to make sure it was really his daughter he was holding.
I watched from a far distance as he awkwardly offered to take my bags
And walked timidly towards the door,
As if unsure of his next physical step.
And for all of the days to come (I hope),
I denied my own reality and gave it to someone else,
Someone who could handle it better.
I had to do this in order to survive
In a reality that didn’t feel right at all.

It is the reality that is so squeamishly yellow
That I have to place a Marlboro Red in between my two lips
So that the Red may combine with the yellow
To become a wonderful orange,
An orange not quite as sweet as the one filled with peaches.
Maybe it will turn my teeth a shade of yellow
That doesn’t make me want to vomit,
And maybe if I f*** every attractive boy I find
I’ll see the orange flash before my closed eyes,
And sparks will fly though out my body like a drug
Sparks of all different colors,
And the darkness will be gone,
Even if just for a moment,
And I will have my reality back,
The one that feels like my own.