Faith In Special
/Ana called me special,
I wiped that goddamn lie,
fixed as a sheepish grin, off my mouth
as my eyes danced behind sunglasses
at the thought of it being true.
I implied nothing of the kind as we blurred the lines,
making the most of the concept
as special left an ambiguous interpretation,
so backbiters rolled with interpolations.
How could I have expressed perfection?
I’ve got a cigarette between both teeth.
I have yet to pay the light bill
for the thoughts of her that illuminated
flaws lit the walls to traces of ambitions
to cast the midnight oil over my desperation,
which roams my mind around rapid statements
of conclusions left undecided.
A voice yet to be discarded
sings a song through a pen
put to paper, scribbling life’s lessons
as though we alone among our group of friends
had the key to romance.
A romance that ached my heart
when her tears told me
she’d lost the baby to heaven’s gates.
Ana said the baby was so special
that God wanted to keep her as an angel.
Five years later, that day was closer
than the pain I felt just the other night.
But still, we called each other special.
We said it until we believed it.
By Andy Cooper
From: United States
Website: https://drinkcoffeewrite.online/
Twitter: AC0040