Life Beneath The Words At Play

Love me now

All I wanted was to party.

To break all rules and laws.

Make your parents hate me and all your friends jealous of me.

Everyone would look up to me as a lost soul living wildly without a thought or feeling, only freedom.

But if I do, I'll regret it all. I'll wallow in my blood and watch through the cracked mirror as my black tears drip down into the bathroom sink.

I don't want consequences. I just wanted a night to spend like you.

I watch you vomit out your guts into the toilet. Your hair clumped in pieces, hanging down in the toilet. You don't seem to care much when all you can feel is the regret of the night you spent. You can barely look up when I ask if you're doing okay. Your mascara covering your face. You were lucky you didn't wake up next to anyone other than yourself. Then, there would only be more things to repent for the next morning.

You shower and drink down a clumped up smoothie, hoping it will keep the pain away because the headache won't stop you from picking up the glass and party the next night away just like the rest of the dark days.

After chucking the remedy, you start prepping yourself again. You find the smallest skirt you can find and put it on, but you can't even sit down without revealing your cave. You put on a dainty pink top and straighten your fried hair as it puzzles with each stroke you make with the burning iron. You look like a doll dressed for a show with a pole.

You spend hours by the vanity picking each peach fuzz out with tweezers and make your face look smoother than a baby's skin. It glows in the light after you're done. Then you start chucking down the shots in preparation. Your friends pick you up to go out. You told me you hated them, so why are you always out with them.

The next morning, I wake up and find you outside, laying asleep on the porch. You won't wake up, so I drag you inside. You never woke up, so I had to call the cops.

In the hospital, you opened your eyes and saw only me. Your blank eyes stared back at my doll face. You looked terrified. I was wearing my little fancy dress to reveal what you thought me. My hair isn't damaged enough to fill your role. However, I did what I could with the time I had.

I understand now why it's so exciting. It's a thrill I want to seek, but I don't yet have the guts to be great at it.

You question my appearance and my bare body showing through my cut-out dress I made to look like yours. You look at this every day in the reflection in your vanity. Why would you be surprised to see it now?

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When you only see your ways once, it's transferred to another one that you care about.