King and Queen

Queen

If this was all apart of my plan, then why does it feel like butterflies are beating incessantly against the pit of my stomach? Why does it feel like I'm making a mistake but nothing can stop me from purposely falling into this rabbit hole that I'm not even sure I want to be in?

How could just one kiss make me feel like this? I've had plenty of kisses before, but none of them made me want to hide until I could erase all of the bad that I've done in my life, so that it won't touch this person that's kissing me.

It's just that something about that kiss that seemed to make me want to compare everything to some type of cliche because when his lips touched mine I experienced deja vu. I'm not sure why but his lips felt like holding a second in the palm of my hand so I don't dare to move because I might make it pass.

I forced the grey cigarette smoke from my lips as I ran my free hand through my hair. Smoking usually helps me to think, to get perspective, but not today. Today, all it's accomplishing is furthering the destruction of my lungs and shortening my extremely complicated life.

Maybe if I didn't constantly feel the need to kiss him again, to feel his lips against the skin of my neck, I wouldn't be in this position. Maybe, then, my life wouldn't be so complicated. So very, extremely, undeniably complicated.

I take another drag from my half smoked cigarette and try to fade out everything that's going on. I try to concentrate on the things that could possibly make things a little less complicated. I don't find anything that could do that.

Maybe if GRANT hadn't cheated on me things would be so much better. I should tell him again, for the thousandth time, that maybe if he had been faithful, my downward spiral would've been so much more graceful, it might've looked like a slow motion dance. Yet, he and I both know that I don't do anything half way, if I'm going to crash, I'm slamming on the gas pedal and hoping that everything bursts into flames and disintegrates around me.

My cigarette burns out and is left as useless as my confusing thoughts. I flick it out into the yard, hoping to cast my thoughts out with it.