fucked up fantasy
i’m not sure i’m over you
the idea of a baby bouncing on your blue jeans
our browns blended into his eyes
his laughter bubbling up beneath the pines
you’d smile at me
and you’d tell me you loved me
and i’d lean against your shoulder
i don’t know why i can still see it
we could never have a baby
i was somehow mistaken
i wanted a future with you so badly
i never stopped to wonder what that future might have been
what would we do?
tell our friends and families we were in love?
can you imagine the disgust in our fathers eyes?
the way they’d stare
the cold silence
can you imagine the way they’d all whisper?
“their poor families” some old woman at church would sigh
“can you imagine?”
two tuxes instead of a wedding dress
they’d choke on the thought
eyes watering at the humiliation of it all
and my mother would cry
running her fingertips across wedding dresses until she bled
she’d look at me
what did i do to deserve another tragedy?
and i’d look at you
and you wouldn’t be there
because it’s all some fucked up fantasy
where no one is happy in the end
and i love you anyways
because i’d do it all
just to run my fingers through your hair
until it turned gray