She’s not really my aunt. My mother’s cousin she was 17 when my mother was born. She married a cruel man former military who made ammunition in the basement. Eventually she ran away alone without the children a boy and a girl, to Seattle to start her life. She came back and stole her children back in the night. The kids grew up loved.
The husband eventually went on a date with my grandmother’s best friend. He killed her on the date. Never arrested.
I watched the sky try to sew itself together
Reaching with tendril arms like thread
Attempting to keep a secret behind its
Heavy heavy drapes
A shooting star.
I think when people see us
They never
Ever
See a couple in love.
The couple they see is tense
And annoyed
And upset.
On the verge of tears at a concert
And hyper aware I look like a bitch
And I don’t know what to do
I’m not sure I’m still in love with you
I am not sure if I still like you at all
And I can’t cry yet.
The construction worker outside is playing Mexican love songs softly. The sun filters through the tree branches. A touch of sleepiness in the singer’s voice compelling the listener to feel his pain and nostalgia.
Little Love Songs