Breaking the Myth

It was always too dark outside

too somber inside

sometimes it's hot and humid

sometimes it's cool and dry

sometimes none of these matters

There was a tinge of vanilla in the air once

of clove from the cigarette that burned in the ashtray on the table beside the bed

of fabric softener

of the sun on his hair

of the dampness on his skin

There was the sound of his breathing, slow and deep in sleep

the sound of my heart beating, a little bit too fast without warning

the faint pulse at the nook on the side of his neck between his jawline and shoulder where I perched my head contentedly

the quiet music at the background we never bothered to register the lyrics

or the singers the bands whatever

or the fact that we subconsciously wiggled our feet to the beat

It's always been a quest to beat the myth

to break it into shards and pieces and sweep them off with a dustpan to the dustbin

These array of boundaries broken to reveal more boundaries beyond it

Yes, my quests, and I think I often win

for a while,

before he quit

and I moved on to another quest

Now it's always too bright outside

too warm inside

Sometimes it's about being too cheerful and happy

Sometimes it's about being quite normal and soppy

You should know all small detail does matter

The myth I am about to break

is me

the broken mirror