(no subject)
"My shortcomings consume me" she said so politely. He turned his face and she could see the disgust on it, even his cheek was slightly red.
She knew this was that moment when everything can fall apart. She told him she loved everything about him and nothing about herself. She confided in strangers and tumultuous relationships. She disguised herself with friends who meant nothing and bashful moments alone when no one could see up her skirt.
His arms outstretched and ready for a goodbye. She looked down at the gravel and it occured to her that every stone in that driveway meant something to someone at some place and time. He was talking but she wasn't listening. All she could hear were her thoughts and her mind telling her "this is what you let yourself become."
Monsters hide in closets, and so did she. She'd sit there under her spring 2003 collection and dust off her old shoes, but nothing, not even the black dress, could bring back the feeling that she once felt with him.
Nothing about these series of moments felt good. She remembered those times when every single moment felt like a birth. When every single birth felt like life. Now all she had left was a designer purse and her head in her hands.
She could scrub them for hours but all she could see was skin rubbed raw. She'd paint pictures of him, she'd stare at pictures of him. She'd carve his name under her ribs because that is where she liked to be touched the most.
She felt like Mary, only she was a whore. She felt like nothing she could do could ever redeem the fact that she was not quite ready to handle herself.
"I will never love you more than I did when you were imperfect" he said before he walked away.
She heard those words. And with one emotionless breath she replied,
"I never loved you at all."
FRIENDS ONLY
She knew this was that moment when everything can fall apart. She told him she loved everything about him and nothing about herself. She confided in strangers and tumultuous relationships. She disguised herself with friends who meant nothing and bashful moments alone when no one could see up her skirt.
His arms outstretched and ready for a goodbye. She looked down at the gravel and it occured to her that every stone in that driveway meant something to someone at some place and time. He was talking but she wasn't listening. All she could hear were her thoughts and her mind telling her "this is what you let yourself become."
Monsters hide in closets, and so did she. She'd sit there under her spring 2003 collection and dust off her old shoes, but nothing, not even the black dress, could bring back the feeling that she once felt with him.
Nothing about these series of moments felt good. She remembered those times when every single moment felt like a birth. When every single birth felt like life. Now all she had left was a designer purse and her head in her hands.
She could scrub them for hours but all she could see was skin rubbed raw. She'd paint pictures of him, she'd stare at pictures of him. She'd carve his name under her ribs because that is where she liked to be touched the most.
She felt like Mary, only she was a whore. She felt like nothing she could do could ever redeem the fact that she was not quite ready to handle herself.
"I will never love you more than I did when you were imperfect" he said before he walked away.
She heard those words. And with one emotionless breath she replied,
"I never loved you at all."
FRIENDS ONLY