I had it on a t-shirt back when Beat It was new, and I was ready to wear, if not my heart, then at least my slogan on my sleeve. Rainbows and unicorns: If you love something, set it free…
It wasn’t free, our divorce. It cost me in self-respect. It cost my ego more; the end of perfect love, the end of imperfect love, the end. The end. I packed. I started with a new set of sheets, and then the sheets needed a bed, and the bed needed a home. I talked to our children as I had not, when there was less explaining to do.
Then you came back, free, of me. And I free of you. And free of the old, we care not just for each other but for ourselves. No battering rams against doors that gave way before; a knock. A calling-card. I like your card; the edges sometimes ragged, the black band, the new address. Your name gives me the thrill it ever did. A calling card in this electronic age. Is commitment a vestigial organ?
If it comes back to you it is yours. But isn’t that what we said the first time? Well, I don’t care. I may no longer wear slogans on my sleeve but I will wear you on my arm for this encore.