folklore : cardigan

Folklore : Cardigan

A grey eyed boy in a vintage band tee sat under a street light; he fiddled with a silver phone, doing nothing in particular.
A blue eyed girl pottered down the cobblestones, a silhouette curated by the haze of the incandescence. Just as she reached the boy he caught a glimpse of her face; a smile that brightened up the entire night.
“Peter,” he smirked.
“Daisy,” she whispered.
The smell of smoke and inked arms intertwined with cream sweaters and soft blonde waves. Exploring streets, dancing under neon lights and alcohol induced kisses become adventures.
Weekends were saved for each other, heartbeats quickened in each other’s arms as they kissed in his car, fought over politics and revealed secrets. Daisy’s atelophobia, Peter’s Neverland complex. How fitting he was called Peter and she was his blonde whimsical creature.
“You’re my favourite,” he’d whisper as they kissed amongst the evergreen of enchanted forests, his wandering hands sliding under her sweatshirt.
“You’re my favourite,” she’d respond between breaths as dew balanced on his feathered lashes and the grey eyes turned to raindrops.
She always meant it but could never believe he did.
They’d drink in downtown bars, beautiful women would stare and Daisy knew what they were thinking, because she thought it too. 
But he’d touch her skin and she would feel brand new. No longer the forgotten story, hidden away that nobody wanted to hear anymore. She would be an open book full of romance and magic, brimming with memorable quotes and fanciful aesthetics. Daisy would be the hero of the tale and he helped her dream up myths and fables that she started to believe were true.
Daisy always thought a friend to all was a friend to none but Peter was adored by everyone. He’d dance around in his Levi’s and say she was his favourite. They’d play hide and seek but the smell of smoke always lingered too long, betraying his location and he would chase her shadows; just missing her every time. 
“What if we explored somewhere else,” Daisy mumbled, “what if we explored the lakes.”
“Anywhere.”
What if started all of their discoveries. What if opened the door to every realm of both possibility and a new secret world they would create together.
“What if we were never apart.”
“What if we ran away.”
“What if we lived in the city.”
“What if we were married.”
“What if we stayed this way forever.”
They lay in his cadillac observing the stars, bickering over celestial spheres as Daisy confessed the star her grandmother once named after her before she passed. Before her father had abandoned her and her mother had turned to drink. Before Peter had said she was his favourite. A time before Peter. A time that seems like another world and yet this is a fantasy too. Daisy knew that. 
He traced a calloused finger down the fine silver marks on her wrists and kissed the raised lines of painful memories. As she tried to pull away a soft kiss stained her skin, leaving a constant reminder of what would come to pass. 
“Here,” he smirked and she watched as he pulled a pen from his pocket and drew stars around her scars, “a Daisy constellation.”
They were young and people assumed they knew nothing but what if everyone else was wrong.
“What if…”
“What if! WHAT IF! You’re young, Daisy! You know nothing!” Her mother would scream.
“You’re wrong,” she’d bite her lip to stop the tears that were dying to fall, “I knew everything.”
Days turned to weeks and summer left them taking away the heat and replacing it with a cold, disarming gloom. A cool, eye-opening atmosphere that misted every thought and every memory, every night and everything else.
Hide and seek stopped being a game they’d play down grocery lines and became Daisy waiting for Peter to stop chasing shadows and be sat waiting under the streetlight for her. 
One day Daisy went to a downtown bar alone. Her heels hitting the cobblestones, a familiar sound that reminded her of that momentous midsummer meeting.
If you chase two girls you’ll always lose one.
Daisy knew everything.
She clung to his arm like a sparkling, sequined nightmare, tormenting Daisy as she slithered around him. A lipstick the deepest of purple it was almost black smeared on her mouth like poison and her dark eyes haunted Daisy’s nightmares even as she woke.
Daisy knew. She was young but she knew everything.
Daisy knew boys like Peter didn’t love girls like her. Daisy knew this would end in more scars, with no stars. She was young, but she knew everything. 
She was his favourite. 
Daisy watched the flood of water pour from the faucet and fill the glass, flowing over the top, coating her hands and her arms. Running down the sink, running like Peter did, running like her father, running like everyone did.
“Daisy. Don’t.”
But now warm blood trickled down her wrist, staining her skin where the constellation had been born. Where stars had once lived, it was now only a bloody sky tormented by a soft kiss that tattooed her skin. The constellation grew.
The smell of smoke loitered in her house, reminding her of everything she’d lost, a constant what if, that which would never come to pass.
Daisy knew Peter didn’t end up with his sprite, he didn’t even love Wendy, he loved no one, he loved only himself.
She was young but she knew everything.
And she knew when he’d be there waiting, knew he’d become restless, missing secret realms and magic fairytales. 
He stood on her front porch and she shook her head as his grey eyes shimmered at her and he opened his perfect mouth.
“I missed you.”
“I knew you’d come back to me.”
Daisy cursed them both as his ghost haunted all of her what ifs. 
When you are young they assume you know nothing.