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

and think

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

just a guy writing some sad poetry