Moth/Flame — A Rewatch I Pretend Is New

I took a deep breath to steady myself before rolling the ball away. Every cell in my being shouting at me— “But what if we just stay?” For another month. For another week. For another day. “What would make Kim stay?” Echoes of a version of you that I had thought actually saw me—for me. Back when I felt like having you in my life was a never-quite-spoken brag. Back when it felt like you were someone that actually had my back. We’re getting too old to keep coming back to play the same version of an old game— never quite sure who in the situation was the moth and which one of us was the flame. A picture that I no longer keep beside my bed, inside of an invisible frame. At least this last chapter started and ended in a way that was unnaturally tame. No final blow-up. No last grand gesture. Just a soft fade— like music slipping out a car window. And maybe that’s the part that lingers. Not the words we said— but the ones we didn’t. I’m not rewriting the ending. Just rereading it slower now, realizing the foreshadowing was always there— I just didn’t want to spoil the plot. At least this time we can say that we both learned a lot.

As the heavy red curtains began their rise, you enter the set from upstage left Below your feet you can see the little tape “x”—you missed the mark by half a step. Still, I held my breath tightly—hope frozen in my chest as if it were opening night. The audience goes silent, and suddenly all we can see is you beneath the spotlight. I listen closely to the prompter feeding you the lines you seem to have forgotten. Standing in the wings, your costar doesn’t seem to understand what she’s caught in. She delivers her lines with wide eyes and trust you didn’t earn— Oblivious to the way you spark the fire, then leave her behind. Alone, she will burn. She doesn’t know yet how quickly you exit the scene, How you pull people close just to slip through the between. You whisper like it matters, then vanish mid-line— Not cruel, just careless, with timing that borders on unkind. You fumble with the props, making the most out of your indecision, Carefully watching the craftsmanship as your skin only faintly glistens. I swear I’ve seen this all before—the moment just before the tension thickens. You bask in applause—the one you wanted so badly to return, Still choking on your forgotten lines. I guess you live and you learn. The truth is still the truth, even if you start a fire to watch it burn— And honesty isn’t something anyone should ever have to try to earn. Now the curtains have fallen, the theater is bare, I’m left with the smoke and the weight of stale air. The answers were props, the truth just pretend— And I’m still in my seat, waiting for the play to find its end.

Have you ever felt a touch so electric that you fall onto your knees? Sometimes there’s more to life than it would at first appear or seem Two separate rivers that always end up in confluence—one giant stream You came to me a month ago, but that time it was only an unwanted dream A year spent staring out at the void, haphazardly containing my screams A disruption—a decade-long routine—I spent too long playing and replaying that one scene The one where we both laid down our cards and decided that it was finally time to leave Reminding me of all the times the end meant wiping tears on my own sleeve Last night I saw your face—not in a dream or a scene replaying in the eye of my mind A room filled with laughter, red lights shining down over your head—you and I passing time “Why do you always come back?” your voice filled with gravel like it was a committed crime The question lingering in the air as my eyes glanced anywhere but forward— Averting eye contact, I tried my best to look for a symbol or some kind of sign The answer escaping me—I thought that it was obvious—thoughts circling inside my mind With a deep breath in, then a hold—our eyes met, and I wondered how much I could hide If you took a second, I’m sure that it wouldn’t be incredibly difficult for you to find Love always existed, even if neither one of us wanted to try our best to define Another drive beneath the star-studded sky—this time was different, your hand in mine Carefully planted feet walking across the tightrope—this time, are you by my side? I could keep running, but after a decade, it’s getting harder to keep my unsteady stride Questions lingering—are you finally ready to stop hiding behind your pride? I could ask the question, but I don’t think either of us will ever know the real why

(Yes, it’s here too. Rewatches do that.) What would happen, if instead of running—we both decided to stay? A door we locked years ago that’s somehow now left slightly ajar. How many times can we repeat the same cycle of mistakes before one decides the prize is no longer worth the cost of the stakes? “You know the definition of insanity, right?” My cheeks, a vibrant scarlet, as I look at the floor. I could make a run for it— my hand, mentally, already on the knob of the door, recounting the steps I took before that led us into the coldest of wars. But what if the story never needed a plot twist, never needed a war to make peace exist? What if the ending wasn’t meant to be clean— just two broken people choosing something unseen? And still, I hover in the doorway, unsure if staying means losing the game. But maybe the real insanity was thinking we ever left things the same— when neither of us ever truly leave.