do you wish we were strangers

never lovers nor friends?

would trading all the memories

be worth being happy again?

would not knowing your touch

keep us out of this rut?

or were we destined to be

and destroy the peace?

if we were strangers

would you wish to start anew?

without the scars we have now

would it we be a dream come true?

or was our destiny always laid out

no way out but through pain?

do you wish we were strangers?

because sometimes I do

I want to forget the good times

because it wouldn't hurt so much now that they're over.

I wouldn't know how much better life could be.

We could meet for the first time later on,

and maybe it would all work out.

We would last this time.

I first met him at birth. Imagine it. My mother, covered in blood, sweat, and pee after five hours of active labor, desperate to get rid of the things in her uterus. I came out first. Followed by a stillborn twin.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” the doctor said as he handed off my twin to a nurse.

They ushered Felix--as they would have named him--to a cuddle cot while they cleaned me off.

A little while later, the nurses came back with Felix and I… and a camera. Family photos were actually a common practice with stillborns.

As the poor nurse gritted her teeth and tried to take a decent photo, I cried, my mother cried, my father cried, Felix’s body continued to exist, and a stranger stood quietly in the back corner of the wall cuddling a newborn baby boy. Unintentionally caught by the camera lens. I never got his name; then again, I didn’t exactly understand language at the time.

The photo now rests on the mantle above my parent’s fireplace behind a picture of me with a cake covered face on my sixth birthday. No one’s ever mentioned the man in the photograph and I probably would have let the mysterious encounter go--had that been the only time we’ve ever met.

When I was eight, I saw him again at that park next to the highway. You know, that crappy park parents go to when they’re tired from their kids, but don’t want to drive all the way across town to that good park with the new swing sets. Every city has one.

That day, I played with my new friend, Lola, as we chased around her new red, rubber ball around the park. We were giggling and tripping, getting a few scraps and bruises. At one point, someone’s dog had sunk their teeth into it and ran off. So, we chased. Like a cat following a mouse. The only difference was cats have nine lives they can waste. We don’t.

To save his treasure, the dog darted across the highway. Lola followed, while I went back to my mother who called my name. Even without me, it was a fun party for three: the dog, Lola, and the driver who ran her over.

I didn’t see exactly what happened. Only heard the screeching of the tires and the screeching of Lola’s father. The dog got away with the ball and Lola’s parents instantly loathed me being alive, and I saw him again across the highway. His back was turned to me, but I still recognized him. He stood next to someone young enough to be his daughter. They never crossed the street or turned around; instead they walked away.

Maybe he took her to the good park across town.

By some rare chance, our paths crossed again on my twenty-first birthday. Already hard-core wasted by the time he showed up, I could barely recognise him. For my twenty-first birthday, my friend, Chad, threw a party for me at his frat house. Before I knew it, four in the morning rolled around with half the people already passed out while the music stayed loud and the drinks stayed fast.

I slammed down a shot glass from some kid’s souvenir collection said to my roommate, “I know that guyyy.”

She chugged another beer. “What guyyy???”

“Ummmm…. I don’t know his name but…” I pointed a wobbly finger at him during shots with my friend Chad in the corner “Him. That guy.”

My roommate laughed. “Haha! That’s Chad you idiot everyone knows him.”

“No, next to him!”

She squinted, real hard at the corner. “Mallory, there’s no one else there. Girl, how drunk are you???”

“What??” I shouted over the music. “I can’t hear you!”

“You know what? You should go talk to Chad! He’s been checking you out all semester!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

She pushed me forward. “Go get yourself a hot piece of ass, girl!”

And I did. Or at least tried to. Chad and I went from grinding together to blacking out together. I woke up the next morning covered in his vomit and laying next to his dead body.

The stranger had left by morning. And I never caught his name.

The first time that stranger ever spoke to me was the night my marriage ended. Visiting hours were nearly over, and outside his hospital door I rested on a visitors’ bench as my eyes drooped. In my right hand, I clutched a container of pills I thought would help, but haven’t brought myself to take any yet. A few nurses tried to ask me to leave, and a few nurses got their heads chewed off by me. So, I stayed.

Sometime around eight, I saw him walking through the hallway carrying a bouquet of black roses. I eyed him from the bench when he sharply turned right and stopped outside my husband’s door. Maybe it was the stress, or sleep deprivation, but as I saw him try to enter, a snarl grew on my lips and I smacked my hand across the door, blocking him. “Are you a doctor?” I snapped.

“No.”

“Do you know my husband?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Why are you blocking my path?”

“Because you’re cursed. You didn’t think I would realize it, but I did!” I snarled. “Wherever you go you bring misfortune.”

His eyes filled with grief as he looked down at me. “No,” he said, “ I only follow it.”

“But, you’ve been following me…?”

He didn’t reply, but I could see the truth in his eyes.

“Aren’t you going to ask my name?” He asked to break the silence as I stared down at the orange container in my hand.

I gripped the pills so hard my fingers turned white. “No… I think I already know it.”

“Do you wish you didn’t?” he asked. “Do you wish we stayed strangers?”

I waited to answer.

“No,” I said at last, unscrewing the lid. Took a couple of tries with my shaking hands. Stupid child-proof caps. “It’s not so lonely when you’re going with a new friend.”

I swallowed about half of them without water as I heard an army of nurses’ storming towards me. I could only assume they were here to chew off my head this time, but I couldn’t care, I was far too… too tired.

As my blinking slowed, the man offered his hand and I took it. He hoisted me to my feet and we left the hospital, my husband, and those black roses behind. While holding his hand and walking, I felt lighter on my feet than I did in my prime. So, we kept walking. I think we’re going to that good park, finally.

Meanwhile, somewhere behind us, my body waited, growing cold and covered in black roses.

The only truth about betrayel: it never comes from a stranger.

Ah!

How i wish,

I walked away at the

first hello.

I just can’t be unknowing

with invisible yet showing

red flags and dangers

if we became strangers.

The thrill of that first touch

can’t really mean much.

Fumbling to discover

old habits, they never renew

We once knew each other.

When sweet nothings you whisper

my mind starts to slide a zipper.

It feels sort of, kind of tragic

there’s this shelf life to magic.

Smooth moves, hot knife to butter

they no more set heart aflutter.

I’m too much in the know,

you cannot set me aglow.

Is there potential to renew,

now that you’re stranger?

I fall back to remember,

the You I once so knew.

Just knowing what I know

it’s best just letting you go.

It’s closure, an epilog,

Or...

... should I be the dog,

that proverbial one in the manger?

do you wish we were strangers?

that you could undo the marks

you’ve left on my skin

& the taste of your kisses had

never lingered?

do you think about me when you’re alone

and battered and bruised?

or drunk and high?

do you think of my scars

and how you ripped my stitches open

just for the joy

of watching me bleed?

i’ve carried my pieces

and tend to my wounds

and i’m still here

exposed

just for you

do you love me now?

you’ll bleed me dry

and i’ll still call you

home

insanity - {renata ferretti}

God, I wish we were strangers. I wish I had never paused when I saw you on that street corner, offering you the umbrella that wasn’t big enough to keep us both dry.

Mama always said I loved a little bit to much.

Maybe she was right.

I gave you my heart in those first moments, looking into your caramel eyes.

And the worst part?

To you we never stopped being strangers.

The light changed.

You crossed the street, and I stayed there, shaking.

Trying my best not to fall apart.

Perhaps your impermenance is what makes me think of you at night.

It's better that way,

to long for what could have been...

not what might be.

Love is safer that way.

I wish we were strangers

Former best friend and I

I yearn for your presence

Feel you by my side

To wake each morning

To tell you goodnight

I hope for a day

When I can return

Before things got messy

Before it turned

Before I changed

Before you learned

Of all the things I did in my room

I wish we were strangers

But above all this

When you left in a huff

I wish that I never

Had fallen in love

The devil came to me in a dream,

and made a deal.

He said,

“I’ll give you all the riches, dreams, and aspirations you want.

But you will forget ___ and you will be strangers”

I sat there in the void, pondering their suggestion.

Strangers

The word sat vulgarly in my mouth, like it didn't belong. The word seemed obsurd.

Strangers?

Would I forget the way they walked? The way they talked? The way they tussle their hair back when they're stressed, or lost in thought? Would I forget the loud bus rides I took, looking out the window hoping I would see them as I passed by?

But then again, even now we seem like strangers. The sight of you sends me into endless boughts of anxiety, wondering what I did wrong and how I could never fix it. You would never let me fix it. The thing I didn't know was wrong. Seeing them in the grocery store forcing me to sprint as far away as possible so they won't see me weak. Won't see what they've done to me.

Strangers. Thinking about all the times I've cried over them. Thinking about the warmth I felt when I was near them. Thinking about the sudden cold they had. Knowing we would never be the same.

Strangers. The thought almost became appealing. All the hurt and pain would go away. I wouldn't have to remember. I wouldn't have to look back. I wouldn't have to feel anything towards them.

But.

Something tells me that even if we became strangers, we would find one another again. That we would go through the same things, that we would feel the same as we did and fall as hard as we could. Despite all the riches in the world,

I can never let go of you.

No matter how hard I dream to.