Save Us (and Rock and Roll)

Don’t panic
No not yet
I know I’m the one you want to forget
Cue all the love to leave my heart
It’s time for me to fall apart

Now you’re gone
But I’ll be okay
Your hot whiskey eyes
Have fanned the flames
Maybe I’ll burn a little brighter tonight
Let the fire breathe me back to life

Baby, you were my picket fence
I miss missing you now and then
Chlorine kissed summer skin
I miss missing you now and then
Sometimes before it gets better
The darkness gets bigger
The person that you’d take a bullet for is behind the trigger
Oh
We’re fading fast
I miss missing you now and then

Making eyes at this husk around my heart
I see through you when we’re sitting in the dark
So give me your filth
Make it rough
Let me let me trash your love

I will sing to you every day
If it will take away the pain
Oh and I’ve heard you got it, got it so bad
'Cause I am the best you’ll never have

Baby, you were my picket fence
I miss missing you now and then
Chlorine kissed summer skin
I miss missing you now and then
Sometimes before it gets better
The darkness gets bigger
The person that you’d take a bullet for is behind the trigger
Oh
We’re fading fast
I miss missing you now and then

Oh
Now and then
Now and then
Now and then

Baby, you were my picket fence
I miss missing you now and then.
In a small town, nowhere in particular, there is a small home. It's every newly wed couple's dream. It has a red nostalgic door, a daydreamy yellow paint job and windows that always blocked the view with sickly white lace curtains. They never let sunshine in. Pink and yellow tulips hug the path to the home. The wooden porch has a rocking chair, perfect for a grandparent to watch the little kids play in the generous yard. The rocking chair is always empty. The yard is full of green grass, soaked with the envy of their neighbors. The white picket fence encompasses the entire area, a barrier between inside and out. If you could enter the house, you'd see it was furnished wonderfully. It was marvelous, with pure white sofas, sky blue walls, roses and sweet smelling wild flowers in vases and a furry carpet. This doesn't matter, because you never looked at the house. You know this house but you don't remember it. The fireplace always burns through the winter, and in the summer, there's a nice breeze. It feels like freedom. It is a venus fly trap, not freedom. This is my nightmare.

I am in an hotel room that smells faintly of mold and rotten food. There are stains on the sheets and I don't want to think about where they came from. The bed creaks and I am terrified it will fall apart under my weight. Across the small room, a cockroach scurries, running to the hole in the wall. The walls used to be cream colored, I think, but now they're gray. I see constellations in the crevices in the wall. The lone window is open and I hear the city outside. Police sirens periodically accompany the buzz of cars rushing. Everyone has somewhere to go, even in these hours. The glass in the window has a deep crack in it, almost as if outside is forcing itself inside, and the glass is unable to protect itself. I will always root for the glass. The lone light bulb occasionally flickers, a constant debate between giving up and lighting up. This is what freedom looks like.

I was wrong. That is not what freedom looks like. I will never be free. I decide for the light and close it. The entire room is dark. The only source of light is the city lights outside. They show nothing. We're in the dark but it changes nothing. I see you. I will always see you. You are the summer and the rain. You are my voice and my nose and my temper. You are always here and distance means nothing. Thinking of you makes panic climb up my throat, my heart race, and my formerly broken hand to ache in remembrance. I'm tempted to drink. Whiskey will solve this. That's what you used to say, isn't it? There were many things to solve, by the amount of whiskey you consumed. Your eyes were always burning, always on fire, warning us to stay away. I have learned hazel is a dangerous color. I don't have hazel eyes, my eyes are the color of the sea, just after a storm. They are the color of the pool we used to go to, as children. They are the embodiment of colorine kissed skin, before it became pale with lack of sunshine. I will never drink. You used to tell me that I must become a cop, just like you, and spend my life searching after this famous murderess who disappeared after a few kills. I will never ever go after her.

I'm panicking and I need to stop. I can't fall apart. My life is just beginning. I am not defined by my past. I am a tiger and these are my scars. I am a phoenix and the fire will breathe me back to life. The darkness will get bigger before it gets better. It will get better. I will crush your love. I have thrown away more bottles of beer than I can count. I have cleaned blood off all my favorite shirts. I have tried to throw away all you have given me. I will not sing. Never again will my voice remove the pain. No one will hear our voice. I will never yell. I will not lose my temper. You will never have me.

And I can't. I love you. I love you so much. I love hazel colored eyes, old hockey t-shirts, the smell of regret, and raw wit with a touch of pain. I love the childhood you've given me and I love my voice. I want to scream I love you from the top of my lungs. I want the world to know. I loved taking the bottles outside, sweeping the home, and making everything look like a fairytale again, even if no one noticed my hard work at making the house look perfect. I loved the days when you were sober and you made pancakes, as if I was a little girl again. I loved the days when you said my mom was beautiful and that I look just like her. You are part of me. I can't stop singing and I can't stop loving you. You are my worst nightmare. I embrace each bruise as a sign you saw me. I miss you. I miss how it used to feel. I miss being a child and I miss never feeling pain.

I'm falling apart again. I am free. You are my picket fence. You were home. You will never be home again. I will destroy your love. I will trash it. The love will leave my heart. I will let my temper burn brighter tonight. The fire will breathe me to life. I would have taken a bullet for you but you shot me. I don't miss you. I don't miss the drunken, insane, maniac you have become.

There's a funeral for a couple that committed suicide this week. The boy was my cousin. Another piece of my childhood is dead. He had a smile and a temper, just like you. I hadn't talked to him for two years, didn't know he had a girlfriend or self-destructive thoughts. He will always be the gangly adventurous boy with freckles for me. You called and suggested I go. I will not go. I will not give you the satisfaction of seeing me again. I have thrown away our last way to communicate. I am free and you will never hear from me again. I loved loving you. I will miss missing you. I will miss who you were but I despise who you have become.

How's that for a helpless little girl who was your punching bag, dear father?

I've ran away from home in the most cliche way and I don't ever plan on coming back to our little house.