The Biggest Moments Had No Fireworks in the End
Updated: Dec 23, 2020
Published on BBC Radio Sussex and BBC Radio Surrey
The choices that ripped a fork in the otherwise straight road were made to no round of applause. I chose them quietly.
Falling out of love with him was no breath of fresh air or gracefully slammed door. It was crashing into the same wall over and over, so often as to develop a shell—evolving to stand the impact. And to eventually break through was to see not roses, but dust.
On the contrary, looking into the face of the next one was accompanied by no string quartet—I was dazzled to the sounds of sirens and the sour smells of the city. If you would’ve told me then I wouldn’t have believed you: that hot tarmac on a cheek would forever feel like his hands in my hair.
When he lost his hair it was subtle. Just another flat stone that made up the crooked pathway. Too far to hop to the next one, but not so terrible as to turn back. It comes and goes. And like the spiky millimetres that are already growing back through—what is lost was not for you, and what is meant to return will find a way.