this one's four you three two

_{her name, if i remember correctly, was laura, melissa and purple.}

picture this;

a girl stays far away from the swing, too scared to touch the sky and follow in the footsteps of wax-winged men. her mammy said the branch would give in. her friend crowns the tree with whispered words, and tells the petrified bark never to give up on itself.

they learn how to spell, fumbling fingers holding fat crayons in fists, racing each oh-tee-her, el-ih-ay-ar-ning to-get-her. it doesn't matter to them that they don't get full marks even though "l-e-a-r-anne" and "d-e-c-laura-t-i-o-n" are clearly wrong.

they are four and nothing's stopping them from living forever.

[now picture this;
moving away is so much sadder when it's further than just across your backyard, feels like accidentally squirting lemon juice in your eyes when she was your friend and you promised 'best', hangs like eyebags and premonitions because you left her number to be lost amidst the grass when you sat on that swing and tried to fly all the way to australia.

and when that bough broke, you learned the meaning of masochism.]

hear this;

a girl tells her teacher that she's very sure she's american. the class laughs even though they don't know why a child's dreams are so funny. later, she's alone scuffing one shoe as loud as she can on the tarp of a dusty basketball court, and someone asks her to 'catch her if she can'.

of course she can.

the sound of her lips cracking into a smile becomes more familiar every day, as she lear[a]n[ne]s that melissa is one-el-two-es, which is just fine because they look the same when she writes them.

she figures that a 2nd chance at 4-ever is a 6-ess when you're 8.

[now hear this;
promises get sprained and ankles get broken and people drift because they're islands and moving apart is part of moving up. she hates school, and that's what 'lissa is good at. on a good day, she stumbles over long words like "congratulations" as she folds the corners of her exam scripts to cover failing grades.

on a bad day, she wonders if it's possible to hate your best friend.]

taste this;

she is taller and the tree out back isn't dying anytime soon and they've given away the swing to younger cousins who will be unafraid to hope for more than she had. spelling comes easily with practice, just like playing the guitar and forcing down lemonade as she envies those who drink it with friends to lessen the sourness.

her first day being 12, and she learns the hunched pale girl near the window is named after jealousy's favourite colour.

trying it on her tongue, it tastes like fate.

[now taste this;
alone in a brand new school, best friend a class and a galaxy and a new friend away from her. these things now familiar like cheap vanilla ice-cream - just as cold - and even if that's bland and boring, it's better this way, better that she isn't losing numbersfriendspromisesherself. hope is now a treat too expensive to have but she can live with that, till the next time.]

_{if one is bad timing, two is a coincidence, and three is just bad luck, four better make up for it.}