“I like people and I like them to like me, but I wear my heart where god put it, on the inside.”
xolis
a sinner
when I was little and went to sunday school I played pretend piano on Mr. Wycoff’s bible. he taught us seven and eight year olds, a thick gray caterpillar for a mustache and a smile like sunshine. I remember the warmth of this smile and the little tabs that divided the books because they were my piano keys. I no longer remember the stories he taught, the sound of his voice; the words he spoke evaporating with time’s messy passing.
a year later when Mr. Wycoff died I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, naked as the day I was born, the water of my shower running hot, steaming the mirror in rolling fog. I stood rebellious, smearing my mother’s concealer onto my cheeks in heavy strokes, wondering if he could see me sinning all the way from heaven.
and I remember the moment I decided that he most certainly could see me, that he could see me and that he was probably shaking his head up there with Jesus. my whole body must have turned crimson.
because at that moment I realized he’d never let a sinner like me play piano on his bible again.
you turn from me and said, “the trapeze act was wonderful but never meant to last”
