fuck

Hold up.

You’re breaking out.

I cant hear past the music. Past the shield you used to cover the light (in his bedroom).

I cant comprehend what you’re saying.

Something’s missing.

Left out.

Words are always misplaced with you.

Can you repeat yourself again?

Again?

Wait.

One more time?

Okay.

I think I understand. But we both know I don’t.

Are you sure you’re speaking truth?

Spilling it all over my once lit up eyes?

My composure is losing its allure.

I am truths biggest advocate.

But not tonight.

Not right now.

Not when you tell me you fucked someone else.

So let me ask you one last time…did I hear you right?

You layed down.

Opened yourself up in full and fucked another person. A guy?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Things happen in the moment.

Things escalate.

Words develop into action.

Actions gain momentum.

How did this happen?

How did we get here?

You kissed him.

You enjoyed it, I get that.

I validate your feelings.

But sleeping with him?

I don’t understand.

I cant.

I wont.

I don’t know how.

He lays you down sweetly as you both know what the future will bring: used condoms and awareness of how empty you really are.

As your shirt comes off, consciousness sets in.

He unbuttons your pants as you move to his overzealous breaths.

He slides his fingers inside you.

Hard.

Rash.

Deliberate.

And when he takes them out to replace them with something else, the smell begins to linger.

Oh how sweet.

How real.

Revenge is always the sweetest smell.

But not for me.

Not on this side.

And as I layed in my bed that night, clinging to my phone, you gasped for air.

He has taken it right out of you.

Going.

Going.

Gone.

Done.

Finshed.

Five minutes is all it took for him to forever implant himself inside you.

And as he lays his head next to yours, beads of sweat drip on top of you.

I hope it tasted like accomplishment.

Tasted powerful.

Savor it.

Remember it.

And know that it is because of this insoluble substance that we will never be whole again.

I hope you felt alive.

Satisfied.

I hope this game is finally over.

You have won.

You have returned the tears.

The hurt.

The genuine pain of heart break.

This gut wrenching, glass shattering, knife stabbing pain is unbearable.

And here you are, on top of the word.

You are alive.

And here I am, also alive.

But finding difficulty in even the simpliest of things.

Like moving my lips to shove out words that will never serve any significant purpose.

To you.

To me.

To us.

How could you fucking do this?

Seriously.

I mean, fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

You are a saturated fat that will never evaporate.

No amount of miles will ever burn you off of me.

Sure memories fade.

Time grows.

But pain?

Pain will never be forgotten.

The record in his stereo plays and spins as you roll around and moan.

But I never played you.

you were never a game to me.

Revenge.

You wanted it. You begged and pleaded for it.

Cried.

Lied.

And compromised your self-worth.

What do you have to show for this?

What were you trying to prove?

I mean honestly.

What the fuck.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to deal. What am I supposed to do now?

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Your favorite word has put you on the maps.

On the lists.

I would have given you all the countless awards if I thought it would have mattered.

But now, nothing matters.

Its all over.

We were going.

Going.

And now we're gone.

Done.

Finished.

But this time nothing is inside you.