Through the Layers
With cold, fragile hands, I slowly unwind the stitches that hold my lips together, concealing my words from ever appearing in this tempestuous world. My small fists punch through the silken spider-webs that coat my throat, having been left in the wreckage and unused for so long. I hear whispers. I hear tears. The screams from inside myself that I have bottled up down there. Why would I keep such lonesome emotions to myself when I had a place to secrete such decay? I forgot. I had no time. Excuses can be maddening, and I refuse to let them tear me apart this time. I will stuff the cotton back within...after I let the rambling begin.
Rambling.
Rambling words.
Words I have suppressed even from myself.
I don't think that it has been a month yet, though the hours make it seem as though it has. But, it has been awhile since I have been going back and forth from the hospital and back because my step-father is in intensive care for his Cancer. I have been a wreck. Things have not been ok with me. I sit at home at night and stare off into space and sometimes I let tears streak my face. Sometimes Jon will come up and be the boyfriend that I want him to be and hold me. Other times, like last night, he was someone that I hated. Someone that made me think of Tear. I won't be seeing Jon for a week because I will be hanging out with my mother and going to the hospital. And, I think that is best for us right now. What he showed me last night and how I felt, really disgusted me. I was lying in bed...and I told him that I appreciated how he was with me. How he just would hold me and not try to fuck me during this time where I just needed to be held. He held me for awhile longer and then proceeded to start kissing me. I turned my head to the side as he slowly undressed me and began to cry. As he touched me, I didn't even have a response. He didn't notice. When he fucked me I made no noise. And he didn't notice. He fell asleep right after. This is not the guy that I met. This is not the person I want in my life. That hurt more than anything.
I have come to the conclusion that I appreciate him more than he ever does me. I do things that I think he would like because I want him to feel loved. He says things that are cruel and hurt me, though I know he doesn't do it intentionally. There are times where I can tell that he cares about me. But, then there are these others that make me wonder what the fuck is going on in his head. I just needed to get that off my chest.
And we slowly shove the cotton in the back of the throat...and reach for the needle to stitch the lips together again.