about us
2003-10-12
@ 11:14 p.m.
about us
I anticipate it. As I slowly crack open the seal and pry the corked lid free I anticipate it. Its cold, murky darkness searing a path across my tongue and through my throat. Through my throat and through my thoughts. You know the ones I mean. Those thoughts of you... and me. Those rancid fucking thoughts of how it should be... and how it turned out.
And how does it turn out, you ask? How does this road trip end? This runaway masquerade? Faded and frayed, baby. Torn down the center, bleeding and groaning, stepped on. soiled. and black.
Black. Just like the lies you told. Just like the love you stole. Just like ME to give you a boarding pass. To let you in and take your baggage and keep you comfortable and oh-so-warm between my fucking thighs. To fall, again, for that "I've-changed-baby-and-things-ain't-gonna-be-that-way-no-more" routine. To fall, again, for those blue eyes. To fall, again, on my face.
Disgraced.
Disgraced because I let you use me. Because I felt sorry for you. Because I ever loved you to begin with. You... your strong hands, your quick wit, your slow. soft. lips. You with your tousled hair and sweet early morning laugh. You, with that adorable way you would smack my ass and ask me to spot you a twenty until payday when you didn't even have a goddamn job. Yeah, those were good times honey. And remember that time in the bathroom? That time you had to scoop me off the floor and stop the bleeding? What about that night in June? Oh, c'mon... you remember the one. The night you dragged me around by my ankles. That night you pinned me down by my fucking throat... with the sour stench of tequila swimming around my eyes. What was that, eight years ago? What was that, fun for you? I'll bet you thought I forgot, didn't you?
I anticipate it. That blessed numbness behind my teeth. Behind the gnashing. That warm numbness that grows and recedes and reminds me with every breath that it's getting harder to breathe. Harder to stand. Harder to open my fucking eyes and harder to see in this blackness.
Harder to see me- a shell of the woman that I used to be.
