What if it's too difficult? What if I cry?
What if we don't have words to fill the empty spaces anymore?
What if we lose our spark?
What if we lose sight of each other?
What if you're not who I you think are?
What if I'm not who you think I am?
What if you don't make the jump? (and I do?)
What if you jump first?
What if I never let you in?
I'm giving all of them up for you.
The neon light of the hotel sign bathes her pockmarked skin in an eerie red glow. Her underwear lays in tatters under a pizza box in the corner, which is still warm, and amongst empty bottles of cheap liquor. The stretch marks on her love handles become more prominent as she lets out a deep rumble of a drunken snore. Blond hair extensions torn from her hair lay around the bathtub.
ReplyDeleteAnd as regret and shame begin to creep into my consciousness, I remember you. I remember how you used to make me feel. And how you used to make me feel. I remember that thing you did that drove me absolutely ballistic. And the things that drove me wild. I remember there was a time I couldn't have been happier, and another couldn't have been more upsetting.
But most of all, I remember anticipating the end. Always. I remember holding back that piece of myself that you deserved. That piece of mind that I wouldn't leave you either. That final piece of love that might have held us together.
I didn't give you reckless abandon. I didn't give you the last word or my last thought. You were just a passing fancy. Even though you weren't. So now this woman lies her in a borrowed room on borrowed time, just waiting her life away like me. Waiting for someone like you to come back.
If I had you back I would be braver. I promise to take the first step. To take that final one.
Maybe.
I hope.