Chris Cappello - “The Western Face”
on the western face the birds can sing freely. no one will judge them but you and me. With my notebook and my pen and your camera lens, we will capture these moments til the very end and if we ever get back to the bottom will we still be friends? On the eastern shore the world is such a bore. We spent sixteen years living out a series of chores and with one after another we eventually discovered that the only life worth living was a life lived with each other and I felt alive for three hours on the thirteenth of march, and you felt alive for a lifetime in the fold of my arms.
vultures and kestrels, they come and go. discarded artifacts littered by stones and we know that we can’t be the first ones to call this our home, but in that moment you and I, darling, we were truly alone.
three months have passed since you changed your tone. two months gone since you blocked me from your phone and one since I found a new girl to give me something to hold.
so what happened to the happiness that once covered up your face, or the water in my eyes that your kiss displaced? I’ll sit up here alone on the western face and think about what it’d be like to bring you back to my place and I felt alright for a minute on the thirteenth of march. You’d be alright for a lifetime in any boy’s arms. I hope that I forget all about you and all of your charms, and I hope that you never feel better than you did in these arms.
So do I wait for the sunset to fall so I can’t find my way home, or do I pray for an earthquake to launch me right over these stones? Should I just take that leap and break my neck and all of my bones and pray for some unlucky soul to find my body in the valley below.
On the western face the birds can sing freely. They don’t care about you and me and they won’t care either way if we stay or if we leave, so let’s stay and let’s leave everybody.
