Pretend I'm Screaming This

The Instability of Human Nature

I wish I could of taken you to the rope swing in the forest by my dad's house.

I remember when I was little and he would pull me up, way above his head,

And let me go.

And I would go flying towards the ground.

But just as the bottom of the tethers would brush the fallen leaves,

I would fly up again.

And I could see the rows of fern bushes stretched out in front of me,

Hear my own laugh as I leant my head back and let the wind rush through my hair,

Feel the sunlight filter through the cracks in the leaves.

But as you would start to slow down, you'd always nearly hit the tree.

And it scared me.

I wish you could have taken me to Paris.

The way you would describe the Eiffel Tower at night.

Like a collection of stars growing from the ground.

You claimed it was just as beautiful as me,

But how you spoke about it made me think

It was just as beautiful as you.

Although your voice would grow disappointed,

As you hated the way it was when the sun shone.

For thousands of people surrounded it,

Like cockroaches to the virgin Mary you once said.

And its beauty become tinged with the ugliness of popularity.

I wish I could have taken you to the beach,

At twilight when the pinks and purples of the sky

Reflected off the waves with the aura of a masterpiece.

I can imagine you running through the water,

Me swung over your shoulder,

Both of us laughing.

Because although the water is dark,

And we wouldn't know what lay beyond the rocks,

Your arms would be strong enough to pull me from any current.

But the evening would grow cold and the waves rough,

And no blanket was enough to keep out the wind.

I wish you could of taken me to the willow tree lake,

The one by your grandmother's house.

Your mind would become lost in the branches,

As you imagined me in that blue jumper,

A lit cigarette in my mouth

The snow beginning to form a canopy on the trees.

It was always your favourite place when you were young,

And you told me we would take out the old canoe,

And float away together.

But men had drowned in that lake,

And you said their souls walked between the willows,

So you'd have to leave in the late afternoon.

I wish you would have made it past 27.

Blown out the candles on a chocolate cake,

Opened your present from me late at night,

And smiled so your eyes sparkled.

But even the greatest navigators could become lost in your words,

And your voice could echo through moonlit mountain ranges.

So you said it was a club you had to join,

To stay with the legends eternally.

But when you whispered your dream,

All I heard was not with me.