“The way she shows me I’m hers and she is mine
Open hand or closed fist would be fine
Blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.”
This boy…Now that I know what this song is about, and have seen the video, I can barely get through it.
It is so powerful it hurts.
I don’t mean to diminish physical abuse. Ever. But, if I could…join in…this is also me — and thousands like me — who suffer(ed) from emotional abuse.
“And it’s worth it, it’s divine
I have this some of the time.”
The beautiful part of that kind of a relationship is what it makes the swing of the pendulum to the opposite side so heartrending. So tragically disappointing. So easily deniable. There is never the rare beauty of the one side without the bitter rage of the other. And if you decide to leave, you are the cause of the rare, sweet wine’s death. It is collateral damage to the death of the hot, smarting physical and/or emotional wounds. That’s just the way it has to be.
If you don’t know that, well my friend, I hope you will soon.
The beauty of Cherry Wine’s perfection hurts just as much, and just like, Delta Rae’s Dance in the Graveyards hurt when my father passed away:
“And while I’m alive,
I don’t want to be alone mourning the ones who came before
I want to dance with them some more”
Listening to this artistry hurts like…like something I haven’t been able to describe yet. Maybe like fucking waxing your whole body.
But a truth, exposed in a way many of us can share, helps us heal, no matter how close to the bone it is.
Long live songwriters and other artists who heal.