...

06.18.08

And today I cried. There was no comfort to be found. My beaten up couch couldn't fit my body. Not like you do. But you weren't there because you were busy trying to comfort someone else. Yourself. I hit you and I hit you hard. Your face, marred and swollen, could never look back at me.
And maybe I had really hoped that I would miss. I didn't want to hit you, but I can't listen to myself. I don't seem to be able to. I listen to someone else, that bitch, the one who hates me. The one who wants to destroy every bit of me which means she must destroy you. She knows you're taking me away. That I'm holding you so close. But that can't happen. She must ruin everything.
And then the guilt hit. It hit harder than I hit you. My body stops, takes a breath and then it fulminates with sobs. As she consoles me I no longer listen to her because it's NOT okay. If only I had been able to disregard her utterances before. Before I could break you.
And I tried to make it better but my touches were nocent and my tears stung you. You couldn't see me or you would have noticed that my eyes were telling the truth. It wasn't me. It was her. And I'm still behind this face... occasionally.
And I hope you come back and stay with me. I promise I will hit that bitch before I ever hit you again. I love you more than the whole world. You can help me escape from her.
And then maybe our tears will evaporate and never return.