02: October 2014 #02 - You Are Not a Phoenix
Authored by Sarah Rosenthal #2
You Are Not a Phoenix
Intimacy is not homemade pizza or inviting him to a bourbon-soaked birthday. It is not when he holds your head in his hands, not even when he grants you a nickname eleven other people thought of before he did. It is learning he’ll keep writing about old heartbreak, it is every line he writes about the fiery-headed predecessor— it is knowing he is not the phoenix you thought he was over iced coffee and hummus sandwiches. No one loves a phoenix. Fire didn’t cleanse a thing. Intimacy is when he loves the bruisy scars on both knees, knows your dumpling order, stops pretending he doesn’t leave sacrifices of dried tears and Taco Bell bags at the altar of his past lovers. Intimacy means saying yes to his sinking ship, your supermoon heart, the separate renditions of your second date. It is knowing the cracks in his beer glass will spread but pouring him a pint of your blood anyways. You are not the fireforged ex, Or the cracked set of china he calls family. You did not pay for passage in the hull of his melodrama. You sleep on the rolling deck and name a consumed constellation in the hopes you never have to watch it blow.