a wise man once said that the
truth hurts like hell. and so it does. all these thoughts i thought were real were
spider web swords against the real demons coiled like
serpents around my brainstem. i can't feed these lies anymore.
i can't sleep, i feel a single tear streak the voluptuous roses of my cheeks. you did this to me. i remember wanting you.
i remember when you made me high. after four months, i look into your eyes and see a
stranger. i don't think you know what i say when i speak. i can't tell if you're
listening. my ears are ringing with
confusion and i know even as i write this you are sleeping, healing, and is it
selfish to wish you were here with me instead? after four cycles of the
moon, i'm left with four revolutions of the earth, and then you slip away from me like
a wistful balloon with better things to do. how do i make you love me? how do i pull away my veil and show you my
soul, knowing you could laugh? i want to trust you, but i just nearly choked on your penis, and when you came you told me to go home.
thanks a lot.
sometimes.. sometimes i
curse you in
the secret parts of my mind. in all the world at this moment i only have you. i can't say what i'd do if that statement proved
false. i think about
other men - i look - but when you pull shit like tonight that little
devil by my ear backhands the
angel next to her and scoffs, 'i told you so..' what i want to have left when you leave is certainly not blistered toes and dickbreath. i want so badly to believe that this will
last. i want to
delude myself that in 9 months you'll burst through my door and carry me away to a
white wedding in your
perfect world where it won't matter if my mom doesn't speak to me and my dad thinks i'm an idiot.
i may look
unsure, but this was all anticipated. i know what i'll do in response to whatever
choice you make. i'll do something, but i'll do it as the chicken, not the egg. i need to know
where i stand. i'm still
blindfolded on the edge of a cliff, as far as i know. i don't want to be
afraid to love you, but you don't make it easy. i wonder if you have any idea what's running through my head.
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notes from the little black book