Won't Let Me Forget
It's not the first time you've seen me weep.
This time is different though. This time you can't see because you're lying in front of me on the ground, your essence pouring from your neck. Your neck. A snippet of an Escher sketch, with its unnatural angles. I look down, trying to take it all in, hating what I see, and wanting to look away.
How could I have done this?
I drop to my knees by your side, knocked down by the guilt of what I have done. Nausea hits me as the weight of the situation clambers up onto my back. Your subtle curves ruined by my own carelessness. My hand hovers over the lifeless pile of you, but I can't, won't touch. Memories of you flood into my mind. Memories of you that I thought had dimmed with time.
I can recall the first time I saw you, 13 years ago. Some strangers house. I didn't know anyone, really, but there you were. Sultry, bathed in the shadows of a dozen people crammed into one room, as I made my way over to you. You sat there patiently, in black and red, until I took you in my hand and made our escape. I didn't know you, you didn't know me. But I needed to enjoy your company, so I could lose myself in something, fast forward this miserable night.
There were countless times when I nearly approached you, only to turn heel. I had made my judgment about you based off of one night. Unfair. I still yearned to give you another shot. I yearned to give you another shot. I felt I had something to prove to you. To myself.
There came a night, years down the road, when I would finally pulled you into me. I remember that exact moment. Fruit perfume, with beads of sweat running down your body. 100 degrees outside, but you were cool. You were mine.
Reality hits. You are still broken. A strange combination of frustration and fondness creeps in. The nights you left me curled up on the bathroom floor. The nights we embraced. The times I kicked you out of my life, only to open the door to you. You, bathed in light. And I let let you back in. I don't know how to say no to you when you get me going.
Tonight I lost control. And tonight, you paid for it.
This time is different though. This time you can't see because you're lying in front of me on the ground, your essence pouring from your neck. Your neck. A snippet of an Escher sketch, with its unnatural angles. I look down, trying to take it all in, hating what I see, and wanting to look away.
How could I have done this?
I drop to my knees by your side, knocked down by the guilt of what I have done. Nausea hits me as the weight of the situation clambers up onto my back. Your subtle curves ruined by my own carelessness. My hand hovers over the lifeless pile of you, but I can't, won't touch. Memories of you flood into my mind. Memories of you that I thought had dimmed with time.
I can recall the first time I saw you, 13 years ago. Some strangers house. I didn't know anyone, really, but there you were. Sultry, bathed in the shadows of a dozen people crammed into one room, as I made my way over to you. You sat there patiently, in black and red, until I took you in my hand and made our escape. I didn't know you, you didn't know me. But I needed to enjoy your company, so I could lose myself in something, fast forward this miserable night.
Your body shouldn't look like this. I bury the balls of my hand into my sockets, trying to rub the sight out. It cant be unseen. "I was drunk." I mumble. I need to believe that. It feels good to recede into the warmth of my memories, where the seconds become small millenniums, and I'm left free to not have to handle the consequences of my careless actions.
There were countless times when I nearly approached you, only to turn heel. I had made my judgment about you based off of one night. Unfair. I still yearned to give you another shot. I yearned to give you another shot. I felt I had something to prove to you. To myself.
There came a night, years down the road, when I would finally pulled you into me. I remember that exact moment. Fruit perfume, with beads of sweat running down your body. 100 degrees outside, but you were cool. You were mine.
Reality hits. You are still broken. A strange combination of frustration and fondness creeps in. The nights you left me curled up on the bathroom floor. The nights we embraced. The times I kicked you out of my life, only to open the door to you. You, bathed in light. And I let let you back in. I don't know how to say no to you when you get me going.
Tonight I lost control. And tonight, you paid for it.
0 comments: