You live your life, you go in shadow
You’ll come upon and you’ll go black
Some kind of night into your darkness
Close your eyes with what’s not there
It has been weeks since your warm body last pressed up against mine, I didn’t know it would be the last time. The nights of reckless abandon as we sneaked into my bedroom and made love to the xx, falling asleep intertwined. The times you jumped into hiding at the faintest tinkling of keys, the closet being your favourite spot. We went on a wild one, it was constricting yet liberating at the same time and all I can do is hold on to that memory and move on because your toxicity will eventually kill me. What we shared was inherently dysfunctional, the exact reason which drew me in, I could never be bothered with normalcy.
Last week I found a strand of your hair lodged in my pocket, pulling it out made me realise my bedroom is no longer littered with your luscious hair when I wake in the morning. Your clothes no longer occupy the usual drawer, your toothbrush no longer paired beside mine and you’re no longer pinned across my board. I contemplated burning our polaroids as a form of catharsis but figured it was too cliche and threw it out instead.
I wish I could spend a day inside your head, to swim around that conniving mind of yours and feel the absolute freedom of being unbound to any moral compass. The way you lay beside me and sleep so soundly in my arms after returning from him. All the signs were there but I convinced myself I was paranoid, I was never the insecure one, so much so that I was blind to what was going on right under my breath. It was hilariously grotesque. Hilarious that it was happening right in front of me and grotesque because I can never look at you the same way. I picture him inside you and then my mind stops. I always assumed the mutual trust and respect was there, I could never do such a deed so I struggle to comprehend how you do so.
Anyhow, I am not particularly proud of my actions which led to how things played out. I was emotional and sensitive under the bravado, forcing my shell to remain intact even though all that contained turned to mush. My feelings of inferiority and emasculation took over and I couldn’t let it go. I got down and dirty in the pigsty. The piggies like to get dirty, I like clean, but somehow or rather we got mud all over ourselves and things got nasty. I called you a slut, It just came out, but know that it was a new low for me. Chances and chances, over and over again, but you didn’t cherish them and that led to your own destruction.
In between your continuous denial and my hunt for the truth, we reached a stalemate. There is no other option but to continue moving forward, making sure we never cross paths again.
This is the end. I can never forgive you. Now you are nothing but a cautionary tale.