|
| sisterscrush stands to close and talks to me to much,
she stares, and her eyes are closed to fight the tears.
i feel guilty, but not guilty enough,
and yes, i am guilty of being his friend,
but since that kiss, i have not touched him. i find no comfort in that,
and she scribbles a message,
the words scream at me, 'you do this to make
yourself feel wanted.' and if i do,
is it such a crime? is it horrible
to want to be wanted, needed,
after standing in her fucking shadow
for so fucking long? maybe i'm just an insecure bitch
with a chip on my shoulder and
a tendency to be a whore,
or maybe i'm just sick and tired
of not being good enough. my family has decided i am the enemy,
to be honest, i can't say i blame them. i came to that conclusion years ago. | | |
| at 12:08 AM, march 18th, mike opened a bottle of smirnoff and informed me i had ten minutes to kill the whole six pack. 1:30 PM, march 18th, i'm recovering from a hangover and his words are hot against my neck and i can't stop shaking. [i say, baby, your killing me
and he bites my lip and lights
me a cigarette, i love you
too, now finish your fucking shot] and the music pounds. | | |
| my hands are bloody,
and i couldn't care less. he says:
i love you. more than i thought i could love anyone. he cries,
and i put my arms aorund.
i don't know what to say,
but it seems that just by being there,
i am enough. maybe, that's all that's ever needed. someone to be there,
and tell you it's ok to cry. (i remember when he told me
that if you can handle someone at their worst,
you can handle anything. and i am
in complete agreement to that. when he falls apart,
i care about nothing except telling him
it's ok to cry. he is the first and last thing i think
about at night. and sleep only comes easy when his arm is around me
and his breathing is steady in my ear.) | | |
| & the words slam back
on the drive home, after he has pinned me
agianst the wall (sisterscrushandtheboysfriend)
and i will not deny the attractiong and i will
not deny wanting it [exercise in futility] and
his voice is rough on my neck. the words are angry at being forgotten
and locked in and locked out. and i am angry that they abandoned me,
and the release has never been better. | | |
| well, folks, choice a) it is. | | |
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