Tuesday, January 6, 2009

I almost forgot history and what it does to a body. Same blue sheets, same sunrise pillowcases. The poor kid's hair looks too stylish for his lies and his belt is colored brightly. Like that phase in high school he never had, but we all did. On new years he told me he was the most interesting person in the room.
He asked no questions and I sunk, drunk, into his lap, too quickly, but not a bit ashamed. We went outside for a spell, and against the wall we went, in for it, not fast enough. Pulled my hair from my face. Asked no questions. Wouldn't want to feel, not to see, not to know. Nothing, no.
Days later I had to ask if I felt a thing at all. I'm sure I will next year this time. What a way to spend time again. Using. There is still a small yellowish brown bruise on my breast. Size of a dime. First nothing, then it was red, then it was purple, then it was blue, then it was green. It's still there, but I'm not anywhere. You could ask any questions now, and I would think for a long time about how I had no answers. It all still feels the same and I would not like to think I've not grown, but I have to wonder, was it all for lonely? Most don't have to think of it at all because they have the warm breathing beside them when they go to sleep, and the arms around their waists.
I like the ones who are never sure. But these days everyone seems to be believing. Faith makes a softer pillow than fear. But doubt will always keep me and I have made the best of friends not on purpose, or on purpose, and it will never leave me alone.

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