Only A Little Broken Up...
she took a moment to run it all through her mind...
and then took her place silently...
she sat in the front of the computer, fiddling with her pen as long as she could, writing notes here and there...
sketching and drawing scenes she played out in her mind. even with a subtle discomfort and slightly nausious
feeling sitting in her gut, snugly. and soon enough, she found her fingers dancing over the keyboard... typing out little
black letters across the screen.
they were destined to mean something in the end... but she wasn't sure there had ever been an end... no beginning...
no bookmarked place with a folded back corner matching a slightly discolored page... from being handled too much.
whether it had been with her eyes or simply her dirty fingers... she was unaware...
without a care...
just glancing back and forth... and hoping to make sense of this in due time... but there didn't look to be much promise
in the end.
just an open-ended story... she could have written herself.
frustrated, she cursed and swore she had the talent to write a story similar... or better...
but caught up in her nascissism, she forgot their faces... even with the black and white photographs she pasted and
placed with upmost care across her wall, well within her view...
and they forgot her in moments. erasing her memory... her face... almost indescribable now... and when mentioned...
they'd always ask "who?"
they hadn't seen her in years, it felt... and it seemed that they had given up the wait as she floundered in the little
black letters... the click-clacking sound of the computer keys, providing what little comfort they had to offer to her...
while she still waited for that one phone call to say that things could go back to being the way they were... before
she disbelieved the idea of an ending... happy or otherwise... just simply an end.
so she made her compromises... she made the necessary sacrifices... still to find her standing among a crowd of
strangers whom she, at one point, called friends... accomplices... now pointing their stained fingers in her direction
and turning their eyes downward, they swore she was guilty of a crime they couldn't bring themselves to
understand...
simply labeling her a self-destructive... a whore... a stranger... dispeared and replaced with ease...
"they'll make plenty more like her"...
and tossed her to the trash can, crumpled... worth a second glance, but, of course, to read it again would only
resemble a waste of time. and there are better things to do while the clock counts away the minutes and hours...
leaving today to slip between our fingers and boldy disregard all sense of time and space...
just another day to fall victim to brutal honesty... just another day to find ourselves one more forgotten memory...
unmissed, and obviously... unremembered...
a childhood doll set underneath a bed... crawling with spiders and covered in cobwebs... becoming beautiful and real
at last...
that's how she felt, she decided...
and she ended those little black words... picked up her pen...
and continued to fiddle the little time she had left... away...
and then took her place silently...
she sat in the front of the computer, fiddling with her pen as long as she could, writing notes here and there...
sketching and drawing scenes she played out in her mind. even with a subtle discomfort and slightly nausious
feeling sitting in her gut, snugly. and soon enough, she found her fingers dancing over the keyboard... typing out little
black letters across the screen.
they were destined to mean something in the end... but she wasn't sure there had ever been an end... no beginning...
no bookmarked place with a folded back corner matching a slightly discolored page... from being handled too much.
whether it had been with her eyes or simply her dirty fingers... she was unaware...
without a care...
just glancing back and forth... and hoping to make sense of this in due time... but there didn't look to be much promise
in the end.
just an open-ended story... she could have written herself.
frustrated, she cursed and swore she had the talent to write a story similar... or better...
but caught up in her nascissism, she forgot their faces... even with the black and white photographs she pasted and
placed with upmost care across her wall, well within her view...
and they forgot her in moments. erasing her memory... her face... almost indescribable now... and when mentioned...
they'd always ask "who?"
they hadn't seen her in years, it felt... and it seemed that they had given up the wait as she floundered in the little
black letters... the click-clacking sound of the computer keys, providing what little comfort they had to offer to her...
while she still waited for that one phone call to say that things could go back to being the way they were... before
she disbelieved the idea of an ending... happy or otherwise... just simply an end.
so she made her compromises... she made the necessary sacrifices... still to find her standing among a crowd of
strangers whom she, at one point, called friends... accomplices... now pointing their stained fingers in her direction
and turning their eyes downward, they swore she was guilty of a crime they couldn't bring themselves to
understand...
simply labeling her a self-destructive... a whore... a stranger... dispeared and replaced with ease...
"they'll make plenty more like her"...
and tossed her to the trash can, crumpled... worth a second glance, but, of course, to read it again would only
resemble a waste of time. and there are better things to do while the clock counts away the minutes and hours...
leaving today to slip between our fingers and boldy disregard all sense of time and space...
just another day to fall victim to brutal honesty... just another day to find ourselves one more forgotten memory...
unmissed, and obviously... unremembered...
a childhood doll set underneath a bed... crawling with spiders and covered in cobwebs... becoming beautiful and real
at last...
that's how she felt, she decided...
and she ended those little black words... picked up her pen...
and continued to fiddle the little time she had left... away...