22 January, 2019
One girl. A girl, not even the girl that you would come to ruminate and stress about in your later years either. Just a blip, sometimes even forgettable.
But she's here now.
It's lightening and pain and the most indecipherable feeling of light you've ever felt and you can't begin to think of why it's happening, but it does and it starts when she looks at you. Thick mascara drenched lashes curled over moss green eyes with pupils intensely dilated. You suppose drugs, but the Roma you knew was a saint.
Things change is her only response.
Her appetite only lusts after cigarettes now, but she doesn't look beautiful when she inhales. More so wraught and permeated with early onset wrinkles. Her hands are calloused, nails nearly nonexistent with dried blood encrusting them.
Things change, stuff happens, I got lost.
For how long? When? Why didn't you call? The questions overwhelm you.
Your mind is buzzing. It buzzes with hypotheticals and probes over the specifcs on your relationship.
It was a lifetime ago, she says mid-drag
You don't miss her. Not an ounce of anything in your body longs for any part of her. Not the lithe body she always possessed or the poetry she poured herself into all for you.
It's a singed memory encapsulating more bitterness than sweet.
The pain comes because she ruined herself. Irrevocable damage, mostly internal. You still see it.
She's still a transparent, open book and all the pages sing and beg to be looked into.
I missed you.
Clara is upstairs. The woman you actually do hunger for. You think and worry and harbor extreme anxieties over her, but you never mind because it's all steeped in love. She's your one person. The girl, you guess.
Go home. It's etched onto your tongue in big, bold, block letters. GO HOME. GO HOME. GO HOME.
You feel unsteady and her one free hand immediately reaches out to help ground you.
The wavelength that contains this life, the one you so carefully and diligently built with Clara feels as if it's already crumbling.
Leaning back into her means you're accepting a new life so to speak. Letting back in something so poisonous and toxic and you don't miss it, don't want it at all.
Subconsciously you've been yearning. Completely unbeknownst to you, you've settled. Clara isn't the end all, be all. She's not the woman to silence your worries about never finding another. She's not infinite, not in it with you. She doesn't love you, either. Just barely. Just enough so that you keep quiet and allow her to stay.
I never stopped loving you seals it.
Your guess was wrong. She's the not one. Neither her nor Clara, but at least this one never lied.
This woman right in front of you being eclipsed by the girl you knew her to be loves you even after all this time. Life undid her completely and struck at her when she was most vulnerable and despite all that she still managed to find her way back to you.
You're why I quit.
You're why I'm here.
You're everything.
