And just like that, she felt something bubble up from her heart. It took a moment, but with astonishment she realized she actually felt jolly. She felt a laugh escape her that she hadn’t heard in years as a single, tiny tear of joy fell from her left eye.
The snow whispered her secrets to the sea
And blanketed the shore with her silent song
“Don’t varnish the truth, darling,” she said to no one in particular as she resolutely declined to add more lipstick color to her lips. She could plainly see the little telltale lines above her upper lip and the way the bright red color she had favored in her youth now bled off into the tiny trenches, and with that, she was done with reds. It would be pinks and faint corals from now on, until the day when even those colors would need to be retired.
I lay, spent, numb
My pain suspended in the discomfort
The known sedation of having gorged
More appealing than tolerating my escalating feelings
Too-full-ness better than emptiness
Physically weakening myself somehow feels like power
For an all-too-brief moment
I am calm, the fear and dread are quiet
And being alive in this body feels almost OK
Until it doesn’t, again
Today, walking along the street in the rain:
God, I love this life. It’s amazing being alive.
Two minutes later:
My life sucks. Why am I so miserable?
I felt excited to go out into the world.
Then I dreaded leaving my house.
I gave myself a stern lecture.
Then I sweet talked myself into getting ready.
Then I dreaded like holy hell leaving my house.
So I shoved myself out into the world.
Then I wanted to go home so badly.
Then I was glad to be out in the world.
Then I couldn’t wait to get home again.
I finally got home.
And I felt like I had missed something important.
First, I thought I was all that.
Then, I thought I was a piece of shit.
Then, I thought I was all that.
Then, I thought I was a piece of shit.
(This was just an hour ago.)
Before I’d even had a serious love affair, there were things I seemed to understand about them anyway.
There were songs about breakups that for whatever reason captured my imagination and moved my emotions. My heart knew what they were about.
One that really resonated with me then, and still today, is a little known song “Tell Me on a Sunday” from the musical “Song and Dance,” with lyrics by Don Black and music by Andrew Lloyd Webber.
The musical is not great, and it’s not a great song musically (sorry, Mr. Webber,) but what the song says is lovely, and it always comes to me when I think about how difficult it is to end something that was once beautiful.
Tell Me on a Sunday
Don’t write a letter when you want to leave
Don’t call me at 3 a.m. from a friend’s apartment
I’d like to choose how I hear the news
Take me to a park that’s covered with trees
Tell me on a Sunday please
Let me down easy
No big song and dance
No long faces, no long looks
No deep conversation
I know the way we should spend that day
Take me to a zoo that’s got chimpanzees
Tell me on a Sunday please
Don’t want to know who’s to blame
It won’t help knowing
Don’t want to fight day and night
Bad enough you’re going
Don’t leave in silence with no word at all
Don’t get drunk and slam the door
That’s no way to end this
I know how I want you to say goodbye
Find a circus ring with a flying trapeze
Tell me on a Sunday please
Don’t want to fight day and night
Bad enough you’re going
Don’t leave in silence with no word at all
Don’t get drunk and slam the door
That’s no way to end this
I know how I want you to say goodbye
Don’t run off in the pouring rain
Don’t call me as they call your plane
Take the hurt out of all the pain
Take me to a park that’s covered with trees
Tell me on a Sunday please
Here’s a nicely acted version by Marti Webb:
“Allow me to give you just a snippet of my mind,” she said to no one in particular.
“No,” she said, calmly but with full commitment.
And with that, she felt utterly complete.
Lay your hands on my body
Play me like a drum
Let our bodies’ percussive rhythms
Make our hearts begin to thrum
Beyond the Skinny Branches 