Wishing for an Ending, Hoping for a Happy One
They will ask us to tell our story,
but we will hoard it within our pockets,
coveting memories like inside jokes
asking no one to understand our shared smiles,
because why would we invite you into our castle,
when you didn’t wipe your feet at the door?
They will ask to take a picture of these moments,
making sure to include glimpses of us,
not smiling in our white dresses
and the bridesmaids,
photoshop ready,
so that they can remember what they’re seeing now,
but we will have these phoenix flies in our stomach til’ death do we join
and even then they will be reborn,
the maggots of affection ever-burning within them,
so why would we need a polaroid of these feelings?
They will ask so much of us
and we will laugh at their demands,
because we know ourselves as no book could ever relay.
Nicholas Spark-ing our diaries with memories
wouldn’t do them any justice.
They will still ask,
and we will give one another the stare that made the time within every awkward dinner party,
family reunion,
presidential election and
discussion of grandchildren, pass well
and we’ll tell them nothing.
And isn’t this love,
the story they want to know,
but we would never tell,
because who are they anyway
in our story?
© D’Jreya Boyd 2023, All Rights Reserved
