[untitled]

17 0 0
                                    

I've always tried to summon a reason for why she comes
I've blamed the man that turned bath time into a nightmare, the alcohol-soaked threats, the girls who spoke knives about me, the boy that never loved me, and the melancholy winter months
But it wasn't long before I realized that she was there rain or shine
And she would be there regardless of the weather or whether or not sorrow crossed my path
She likes the darkness
She comes to me in my dark room, in my darkest hour, in the dark of somber months
She gently led me to the snow when I was ten, reassuring me that once I fell asleep, I'd stay that way as I turned into a snow angel
She held a shaky kitchen knife to my throat when I was thirteen
She fed me a handful of cream-colored pills a few months later, but not quite enough
When I was fourteen, she took a blade to my wrist and smiled as the rose petals floated gently down my arm
She insisted that the wave of peace was real, and that it was worth it when they burned in the shower
She gave me bracelets, many bracelets, that didn't match my clothes
She fed me straight vodka and kissed me goodnight on the carpet floor
She watched as I wrote letter after letter, addressed to people she affirmed would not miss me
She read worried texts from my friends and bid me not to answer
She stayed with me at home, refusing to go out with anyone
She wrote the most beautiful poetry, till my mom found it and cried for hours
She lays with me in bed for days on end
She feeds me everything at once or nothing at all, depending on the day
She kisses me to sleep with bitter tears, or worse yet, a gnawing emptiness
She doesn't have plans for me
It's all just a dead end road
No drivers license, no college parties, no extravagant wedding day
She married me and left me at the altar with a broken neck
It's always been like this. As long as I can remember
Slamming myself in the door at the age of four
Wondering if I could just cut the fat off my body, and be a little
Less
Refusing to wear a winter coat because it made me bigger when I wanted to be smaller
Or better yet, nothing at all

Anthology of Sadder Things.Where stories live. Discover now