Bruised Heart Cotillion.

Uncategorized

I know I’ve vowed to keep romance out of this blog, and this entry will be no different…but I may touch on the feelings that are generated in the wake of a break-up!

I am FAR from lonely. I have TONS of AWESOME friends, and I’ve been spending lots and lots of quality time with them lately. And for better or worse the majority of them are going through some sort of romantic angst, so at least I have tons of miserable company. And I tweeted yesterday about “Xmas being a magnifying glass for ennui,” and that’s been in full effect the past two nights. And it’s weird, because I was doing especially well in regards to one aspect of my particular mire. But little things slip in when you don’t want ’em, and can mess with you more than you know.

That being said, I rocked the house friday at Casey McKinnon’s “Party for teh internets” with my stirring rendition of “I touch myself.” And then last night three core members of my group and I went to see “Slumdog Millionaire,” which nearly brought me to tears and reafirmed my will to live all at the same time.

But before the show, we were sitting at the bar (Arclight, ftw) three of us drinking our beers, just kind of staring into space, chewing on our end-o-the-year angst, and I made a point of breaking us out of our funk by saying:”Y’know what? There’s nothing wrong with ANY of us!” And then we toasted and enjoyed a nice round of Hi-Five City.

And then i remembered this poem I wrote two years ago in the wake of a break up that I made out to be way more than I ought to have. I haven’t edited it in any way, and it’s not quite perfect, but here it is, anyway:

The room is half dim
And very few speak
The Bruised Heart Cotillion
Is a place for the meek.

They’re shell shocked and wary
And cling to the walls
Some hide in the corners
Some pace through the hall

There’s a girl whose ex
Thought that sex was a laugh
And a man who saw his
Home split neatly in half

Another boy made a trip
To a faraway place
Just to have his fiancée
Throw it back in his face

Those that do dance
Do it with stubbed toes
With sprained ankle grace
And brittle backbones

There’s those that pair off
Although some are remiss
Exchanging tentative glances
And one glass-lipped kiss

There’s some leave together
Lucky at last
Who try to unlearn all
The dances that passed

There’s some go back home
And wait for the chance
To give it another go
And have one more dance.

Then there’s those that can’t shake
All those memories so dear
And take the soft option
And can’t come back next year.

The room is half dim
And very few speak
The Bruised Heart Cotillion
Is a place for the meek.

Keep dancing, y’all. Hope the music never stops for you all!

m.h.

Advertisements

8 thoughts on “Bruised Heart Cotillion.

  1. There’s just something about the snowfall effect over the words that makes me get all misty-eyed. The rhythm feels like a waltz, or like the trippy dance scene in Labyrinth after Sarah eats the spiked peach.

    It also oddly reminds me of my wedding–not necessarily because the marriage didn’t last, but more because of:
    Another boy made a trip
    To a faraway place
    Just to have his fiancée
    Throw it back in his face

    One of my best friends had taken a redeye from Germany, ending his study abroad a day early so he could be at my wedding, only for his fiancée to dump him in the middle of the crowd at the reception.

  2. FUCKING BRILLIANT, Michael. I and my stubbed toes salute you!

    Times like these make the actors in us stronger. It’ll pass, so embrace it, observe it, and strip it for all it’s worth while you have the chance. Because someday, when the bruises have healed, it’ll all have been worth it…

    At least, that’s what I tell myself 😉

    Best,
    Gina

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s