ORIGIN: This is an admission of guilt. All the Brush gave us was a girl in a white dress about to dance with a dog. But the neighbor’s dog had been barking most of the day and it felt like a thorn in our side. And then we just got carried away.
Big brother uses his imagination, but little brother broke off a parting gift for himself. You can try and find it in that big tangle of thorns. And we just couldn’t resist those conjoined twins.
Someone once danced me around the moon. I stepped on his toes, but his smile never faltered to a stop. If only moonlight had congealed into sleep. The sharpest thorns. I would have used them to stitch my eyes shut and make sure that magical moment went on forever. Little girls are bound to outgrow their fathers’ arms someday, but it can’t be helped. I still crave that feeling of safety. So, what do you say, my dog? I’ve saved this dance for you.
A dog asked me to dance. Are you wondering why I said yes? His floppy ears reminded me of the blanket I used to hug to sleep when I was too young to know that safety is something that can oh so easily be taken away. Round and round we danced. Call me naive, but I really thought he would help me shake off this fear I’ve been wearing like a second skin all these years. Thorns aren’t yarn after all, how could I have known fear would wind itself even tighter around me? But it will be fine. Dogs stay, don’t they?
I hate fragrant roses. Loyal dogs too. I don’t want to live in the past. I know it’s called a ribcage, but I’m of the mind that hearts should be free. Maybe it’s just me, but memories make it difficult to breathe. I want to dance every last one of them away. Forget all these smells that hit me where it hurts, and breathe something new. But not everything can be rewritten. I danced with a dog in a garden of roses when everything was new to me, and I don’t know how to break this thornful embrace.
I’m not shy, roses don’t bloom on my cheeks. When that dog asked me to dance, at first I refused because I get motion sickness easily. I’ve seen too much and sweet words have never agreed with me, that’s why I try to keep any conflict between my eyes and ears to a minimum. I dislike being lied to, but loneliness has a way of creeping into the heart.
Have you ever slammed a door to pull out a tooth? Patience has never been my virtue. My first friend was a dog and I grow my roses in a greenhouse. I prefer to dance without music. My Daddy used to say that I am light on my feet and sound couldn’t keep up. Come to think of it, the last time I saw him he was on the wrong side of that door. But it doesn’t matter, I learned all on my own and I don’t lack dancing partners.
Don’t bother to try and make sense of that tangle of thorns. All you need to know is that something is missing, and these big brothers have tried to conjure it up.
I’m not a magician, but this is what I would pull out of a hat. My brother had a guarded smile three-fourths of the year. But when the blackberries were ripe, he couldn’t help showing the stains on his teeth. That was the color of his laughter, and I would be lying if I said that I don’t miss it now that he has curled up into a ball for good.
I remember the wonder in my brother’s eyes. The thousand stars in a narwhal’s skin. I, on the other hand, only had use for its one tusk. I spent my formative years dissecting magic tricks. I’ve lost count of how many birds have died in my hands. But do you want to hear what the real tragedy is? There’s nothing left in my brother’s eyes. We grew up, but only I have retained my raison d’être.
There are glaring similarities between chestnuts and hedgehogs. It was a newspaper cone, not a hat, but I remember that during the sun’s winter break, my brother and I used to eat roasted chestnuts. I never measured my words, never cared whether they hurt or not. It didn’t snow where we grew up, and I liked watching my white breath fill that gap. But my brother wasn’t like that. He had a hedgehog’s soft underbelly, and someone must have told him that what goes around comes around, because even in winter his words were always bland and colorless.
Black birds are reviled for bringing bad luck. But everybody seems to adore colorful butterflies. Don’t storms magically appear when they flap their wings? Out of sight, out of mind. Is that what it comes down to? There’s no hate as long as disaster strikes someone else.
These are the little brothers that got lost in the thorns.
I’m not lost. My brother let go of my hand. It’s his fault, and that makes all the difference. But you know what? I won’t let my heart become a beast of burden. Birds might come back, but I won’t. This is where I unpack everything he touched. All the memories we shared and the love I have for him. Good riddance.
I don’t know if keepsake is the right word. My brother didn’t give this cupcake to me when we parted ways. I didn’t take it. I baked it. One moonlit night when I couldn’t sleep. I’m the only one that hasn’t moved on. I wonder if this is what using a lunar calendar feels like. I’m riddled with holes and pale as a ghost. But losing me didn’t change anything in my brother’s life. All his colors are still as good as new.
So what if I have abandonment issues? Teddy bears exist for a reason, and I can’t be the only one that knows the feel of their fake fur better than the warmth of my family’s skin. Apparently, swans sing before they die. I was too young to walk away from my family, but every time I had to hug that teddy bear, the son, the brother, in me was one step closer to dying. I’ve always wondered if crying counts as a song. Back then I was torn. I didn’t know whether I wanted sympathy tears or not. So I just gouged out one of my teddy bear’s eyes.
When my brother showed me the door, I left with a smile on my face. We grew up reading the same children’s books. I’ve never had a taste for cheese, but nobody believed me. In that house, my brother was the crow and I was the fox. I was a threat, that’s why I left. Before the blood between us got any worse.
Right: Let’s count sheep and lure an unsuspecting dream.
Left: …
Right: Come on, it will be fun. Haven’t you ever seen wool on barbed wire? These thorns are much the same. They will snag the softest part, the easiest to believe lies, and leave the rest, the blood and the bones of that dream, for the wolves.
Left: …
Right: Come on. Let’s sleep while somebody else chokes on reality.
Left: Did you know that some birds impale their living prey on thorns?
Right: No, I certainly did not.
Left: …
Right: Tell me more.
Left: Ignorance is bliss, and I am on a first-name basis with it. But corpses grow cold, and my hot-air balloon is bound to come down someday.
Right: Where are you going with this?
Left: If dreams are birds that bleed you dry, does that mean that I am bound for the coldest level of Hell?
Right: Probably? You know the letter of the law better than I do. Haven’t you just said that what goes up must come down?
Left: Pity. I enjoy your company.
Right: …
Left: …
Right: And I yours?
Left: If that were true, I would see you in Hell.
Left: I can’t breathe.
Right: You are using the wrong tone of voice. Haven’t you ever read the dictionary? Here, I will lend you mine. See? Breathtaking is used to describe beautiful things.
Left: …
Right: Where’s your smile? Quick, take a page from my embrace.
Left: I would rather not get a paper cut and bleed all over you.
Right: I appreciate the sentiment, but you should know that roses are the flower I like best. It’s because their thorns are red and love should never be only skin deep. So, smile. Let me feel your love.
Left: …
Right: …
Left: That’s not the definition of thorn in someone’s side.
Left: Brother, are you sure this is the right path?
Right: It should be. We were told to broaden our horizons and I’ve seen the sun set in that direction.
Left: But there are thorns all around. Are you sure we should grow up? That fence must be there for a reason. Aren’t you afraid of losing yourself?
Right: I’ve only ever seen wool snagged on barbed wire. We might get some scrapes, but our hearts should be fine.
