Wanderlust - Hours of the Day, Page 2
Luann Jung
listen:
on our one year anniversary, we were so in love and still falling. i had already planned out my life with him . . . our perfect little life. we lay in the grass at the edge of the forest, and he showed me the star that he had dedicated to me.
it was a lovely star, and all of a sudden the other stars dimmed to minuscule pinpricks of light and only my star continued to glow bright. to me, it was the brightest star in the universe.
after that i loved him so much i felt my heart might burst. i was afraid that if he left i would be empty, that so much of my love would have been used up on him that it would have none left over for anyone else. i was afraid that my heart would shatter just like a dying star. but he said,
“i love you like the sky is blue, and i’ll miss you while i’m gone.”
so i forgot about that side of my heart.
listen:
we both knew he’d only be gone for a week, but we were sad all the same. he kissed me sweetly and gently, then he stood up, brushed the grass off his jeans, and left. in that moment, i wondered where goodbye had gone.
soon the leaves changed, and maybe he changed his mind, and maybe i finally admitted that he wasn’t coming back. he was never coming back. but i tried to become brave enough to forget about what i had and focus on what i have. like my star.
listen:
he left me a star shaped cake with beautiful icing in my fridge. i threw it out. (he didn’t make it, it was a cheap store-bought one)
eventually, even my star went away. one week, it just wasn’t there. my beautiful star had either blown up or orbited away. my heart was like the star, it had crumbled and disappeared.
listen:
on what was supposed to be our two year anniversary, i caught wind of some juicy news that he had married and had a bouncing baby son now. so when he left me that night, he had left for good, and with him he took my star.
i wanted to forget about the star that was like my heart, it was just rocks and dust now. if it suddenly popped back into the sky one day i would ignore it, because there is just something entirely too hopeful about watching broken things shine.
despite it, i was upset that he’d forgotten me. but not as sad as I had been for the star, because that star had been mine, but he was his own.
23 - DURING THE FALL: PART OF LUANN JUNG’S BOOK ‘SCOWL’
She wants them
to understand how
she works, but
They can't.
She is alone.
It consumes her, and
she doesn't
want to care,
even though she does.
Few
dare to look out through
the thin-paned
glass of
the window of insanity.
The clear innocent
glass,
beckons like she
who acts like a person
and ruins you,
slowly, surely,
by
whispering dirty secrets.
And that temptation,
alone, made her look
through. It ruined her.
24 - CARS: PART OF LUANN JUNG’S BOOK ‘SCOWL’
Tires squeal,
steering wheels turn and turn
like we just let go of a
yoyo. Careless
words are thrown around
as the sound of metal
on metal
reaches our ears
In a flash it's over,
and two cars pull away
with paint scratched and
disfigurations in the
metal.
Plastic.
Both.
