mellifluous
Pictures flashing on the wall, passing by. Time escapes us, and we will never feel the same way again
We both knew. Reluctance plagued us. Reciprocation decayed. We died each separately in our own broken minds, and that, I think, was love.
The object of my desire was never clear. I was never made of glass, but rather polished stone, so finely made that you might think it wasn't. In fact I never knew myself as well as he did, and I'll never know how it was that he did. "Some things are better left unknown," they say. Perhaps in this instance I will agree.
He didn't know himself. I thought I could learn: his topography, his character, his internal self. I couldn't, of course. I was naive. I never once knew him. But he knew me.
I took a bath with milk and oatmeal and scalding water. I lay there for hours. I became dehydrated and dellusional. I was in the past; I was five years old and I was happy. I had two parents and a sister and a bed of my own. When I came to, the tub was empty. I was lying naked and alone, covered in oatmeal, and once more I wanted to die.
In sixteen years I haven't gone to a single local event. I've chosen to stay indoors, and further, in my own small bedroom, locked away from the disapproval I know is waiting. Is this really right? That's not for you to decide. I'll stay here until I die if that's how I so choose.
soon is not when you'll be in my arms
soon is not when you'll look into my eyes
and tell me you love me
soon is when I take the pills
and fall to the floor
whispering "goodbye"
even though you can't hear me
Late again. I shouldn't be surprised. Your arriving off time is the only constant I can find in you. I aught to stop expecting otherwise. You've never let me down letting me down.
I don't think that I'll ever be satisfied, not really, not fully. I'll always want more. Always. There can be no exceptions to this rule. Unsatisfied, unsatiated, I'll roam this earth eternally wanting more and not for one moment receiving fulfillment, satisfaction, or any minute end to my neverending grief.
I couldn't tell you how many times he'd lied to me; mentioned in passing some bizarre, antiquated anecdote to mold my next decision; manipulated the whole lot of us without our ever knowing. I never knew till now and I never wanted so much to kill a man.
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