1Written for Jessa and Lila, I love you both.
Any reference to Twilight is obviously not my own, neither is the song where this has come from.
**Trigger warning** This OS contains mention and description of abuse.
Tender lips kiss me, I gasp in your mouth and grab a handful of your silky hair. I love how messy it is, in contrast to how rhythmically our mouths move, our bodies dancing, both literally and metaphorically. The led lights shine behind my closed eyelids and the music is faint in my hears, the heat prickling my skin. I hear my heart racing above the music, I feel your hand over my damp skin, running, exploring, taking.
I shudder, your green eyes shining with mischief in my mind, as your hand goes up my legs, reaching to up that place hidden by my short skirt. You feel so good, I'm soaring high, your fingers on me, your mouth on my neck, I'm weightless. Until I'm not.
Once the high is down, and my eyes are open, the spell is broken. It's not green I see, but brown. It's not copper hair I touch but black, it's not you with whom I'm hooking up, but it's always you in my mind.
One, two ,three, one too many later. Lines get blurred, figuratively and not so much. The night is young but I'm feeling old. The sun is almost out and though I'm wide awake and up I feel so utterly dead inside. My bloodstream's running a constant marathon, rather that than stopping altogether. I fear it may if I don't keep it running.
My girls are laughing, they're new but so is this version of me . I'm laughing too but I don't remember why or how, I just know I am. Smoke floats in front of my eyes, smoking a day away from my life doesn't seem too bad.
I'd tell you I feel good, I'd tell you I feel fine, but I don't feel. I just am. And God I don't want to come down, the gritty feeling of everything I've done is going to eat me alive.
I don't know what time it is, but I'm up -and I'm down. The person looking back at me has mascara running down her eyes, red lips stained, hair a fuzzy brown cloud. There's a bra strap showing and a v-neck too low, a skirt too short, dirty knees from falling down, a dirty conscience from how I stand up.
I scrub furiously, aching, as much as I did the first time you filled me. This time I'm cleaning, I'm cleaning myself from the vessel I thought was you, there's always one to replace you. There's always one up to try erase you. None of them can though, you're still ingrained in me. I live and I die for the memories. The hot water feels cold, and my tears are so warm. I don't even know what I'm doing anymore.
They could say I'm drinking water, it looks clear but smells of sin. I'm clean on the outside and watching kids play, the park is windy and the sun about to go away. Twilight used to be our favourite part of the day, sit and watch the sunset, thinking we'd do it for the rest of our days. Thinking we'd grow old together, I wonder if it was only me dreaming the whole time. I want to think no.
But I'm watching the sunset alone, I'm watching kids play though I will never have my own. I see the dads chatting, the mothers chattering, I wonder if those women know their lovers may be chatting with someone else, that those phones could be a threat. I take a swig as a kid goes up on his swing. They don't, I didn't.
The swing goes down, so do I.
I'm not at home but I don't really have one anyway. I have a flat with a bed, dirty clothes and a billion reasons to get me handcuffed. This bed isn't mine but it's soft, it sinks under my weight, not that there's much of it, I'm wasting away trying to fill the void you've left. I've spilled some of my drink on the duvet, wasting precious alcohol as I'm already wasted.
I run my fingertips through colours, may they brighten up my life. Fingers are running through my messy strands, my girlfriends are already so fucked up. I take a shot wishing it was in the head, I take happy colours willing my sadness to go away. It's me that leaves, out the door, out of my mind. I've now an spectator staring into my own life.
I don't know how I got here, it feels so good and it feels so bad. He fills me up but I just want to throw up. He's done, I'm done. I'm locking myself in a cheap hotel bathroom, emptying my stomach for God knows how long. I'm naked, the floor tiles are cold, but I can't find it in me to open the door. He doesn't come to check on me even though it's not locked. He's not you, but I'm not me either anymore.
This coffee sucks, it's biter, far too much, not even the Irish liqueur has sweetened it up. I find a few notes on the bar, I grab them and put them in my bag. May as well really be what I am, or what I was for the night.
People stare at me on the street, my fishnets are torn apart and I look a million shades of fucked up. My boots stomp against the ground, the honking and cat calling I don't even mind, but it's their eyes I want to shut out. I don't want them to see me, I don't want to be noticed when I'm present. I only wanted to be noticed by you, I miss being stared in the morning, I miss you standing by the room door just gawking. I miss you.
I eat cold ramen out of an oily box and wash it down with cheap fizzy wine. I've had a glass or two, I don't really count them anymore. I've stopped counting. I don't count the days since you've gone, I don't count the times I've had sex or the men, neither do I count all the times I've cried and wished I was dead.
I'm up in the carousel again. The night is forever young, and I'm having the time of my life. Everyone is laughing, kissing, touching, dancing, we're all different but one right one. I don't know where they end and I begin but I don't mind. It's nice to finally feel anything but empty inside.
I'm saying no, I'm pushing hands away and far, but they keep coming back. I'm aware of what it's happening but I can't make it stop. You'd never let it happen in the first place were you by my side. But I've arms that aren't yours caging me down, and a pain where I don't want to welcome this man.
They shush me, I cry, I don't press charges, I don't remember much of the night. I remember you and your eyes, but not his, just his hands. Just the way he felt when he forced his way inside. I take comfort in the highs, them being offered with open palms. I don't want to think or remember what's tearing me apart.
All the tests are clear, but they are also not. I made sure I was clean, but forgot I haven't really been -I've been everything but clean. Words and questions, probation, I've to get clean if I want a go. I've nothing at home anymore, it's all consumed, all gone, so I say no. You are gone, so am I. Nothing really matters anymore.
I dress with happy colours, prescribed pills may be by my side. Who needs a dealer when a doc is your friend. My bottles are always full but always empty right back up. The booze and the benzos help shut my mind down. I need an army of them with each passing night.
I'm out again, but it's not the same. Something went wrong, some mix did not do its job. I feel sick and weary, I'm paranoid and hyperventilating. The bathroom stall seems to close on me, I grip at my hair, I scream. Bang my head against the wall so I can shut it out. The voices, the noises, they haunt me, hunt me down. They claw at my chest and take all the air out, just like seeing you with her did.
Someone gets me out of the stall, they forced the door open as easily as someone forced his way inside my body and inside your heart. As easily as you left without looking back. I'm shaking, I can't even sit back up or focus my eyes for long enough. They say words that make no sense, I'm present but I'm nowhere. I'm floating, finally, finally going.
Two letters, one meaning. A drip going down my arm and a monitor by my bed side. The beeps are constant, I wish they were a flat line. My girlfriends aren't here, neither is my mum. My father's long gone. I'm alone, and aware. I sink under again.
My dreams are better than being awake, than walking through these halls, as they keep me held against my will. Sectioned, classified, put away, a label on my arm. They want to fix me, stitch me, release me. There's no way they can put the pieces back together, they've burnt to ash.
Nobody visits, I get pills every day but they make me feel what I'd rather not. I've someone to talk to but I want to avoid. I get changed sides, down to those who like me don't follow guidelines. I've a new nurse, new bed, new room, same hell. I hear a gasp and I just stare, if I thought I'd seen helI I can't wait for purgatory.
She tells you where I am, she tells me she won't tell anybody she knows my name. She was my best friend, she knows more than that, she knows everything. Except this, she doesn't know this. She knew the old me, but she's as dead as I wish I'd be.
Time passes, slowly, dreadfully, painfully. I drown each day, it's dying a thousand deaths and I wonder if this is what I have to pay. I wait for absolution, I've seen hell and I'm paying, I don't really think my debt is that hefty. Were it be I wonder how big yours is, how much does one have to pay for breaking someone's heart as you dote on another one behind their back.
I'm stunned speechless, knowing full well I'm actually seeing this. I have a visitor. I would rather have my routine. But you're standing in front of me, and your hands are twisting, and your eyes are misty. They get me out, they get you out, there's screaming and crying and I realise it's me. But I'm drifting away, down on the floor, a needle on the inside of my elbow and everything is gone. You are gone.
You come back, and back, and back again you come. I stop screaming. I never stop crying. I start yelling, sometimes they take me out, or you, but it never pains me. Not your tear streaked face, not the way I have to cooperate, nothing pains me as much as when you first left. For good, for her.
I've an added session, you're in them, we have to work on my past, or so says my therapist. They still want to fix me, but they can't fix us. I wonder why you are here, I wonder why they want to punish me, I never wonder why you bother with it.
Days and nights, tears and fights, storming out the door because you can't hear anymore. The shaking has also stopped, I need a drink or a fix, but each day I fight it more. I hate you more, I wonder more. What did I do wrong?
I'm clean, this time I'm overall clean. Nothing on my veins but blood, nothing on my head but my own coherent thoughts, no stranger between my thighs to fill a void. You are clean, you've shaved, and now it's you the one that's a mess. You too got close to the darkness, got your wings burnt as it got brighter. You are now another human facing their damage.
I'm getting better, I'm not screaming, I'm still crying, but I'm not sobbing. We do a lot of talking, wounds will never disappear but I'm okay with scars right now. You'll be a pretty big one, but so is what I've done. There's a stain I'll never quite get to wash out. Part of me wishes I could, part of me knows it's the reason I'll never fall back into the habits, into you.
Forgiving makes me weightless, for once it's not drugs or booze that have set a weight off my shoulders. I forgive you, wholeheartedly, sober, clearly, honestly, I do. But I forgive me too. For all the nights and days, and the drinks and the pills, the lines and the guys. The use and abuse, the wanting to die and almost doing it.
And you're gone, and this time I have to stay high, not on drugs, not up partying, but high on my recovery ladder. Up where I'm clean, where I don't have a morning drink, where I work to build my life from within. I've to keep my game up, not to forget, but to live, even if I don't know how without you. Even though I know I could now have you.
I choose having me, and whoever this new me is, it must be enough.