|I speak bravely. I’ll use false bravado and flimsy phrases of courage to keep me breathing. I say them until they burrow deep inside my rib cage, quickening my heart. I say them until I lose my voice. I sing of them until their song sounds familiar. |
I’m not much of a believer though. As much as I remark upon my ability to overcome, I usually splinter when alone. My bed transforms into a coffin; the sheets I burrow into are the dirt. I pretend I no longer exist. I’ll sleep as if I am the newly dead, body prostrate and pallor chalk white.
So much ugliness has happened. Too much pain has left lashes upon me. I wish I could flee to you. Your arms are opened, but your touch is chilled. I know. I am your deficit: A woman to love because there is no other to approach.
Cruel this loneliness! Hateful. Spiteful. As riverbeds form at the corners of my eyelids, I think of all I have lost. The career, gone. Your embrace, gone. Our friendship, gone. The future, gone. Happiness, gone. All of it gone, gone, gone, gone, gone.
I miss you. Nothing can be done about it. I long to be some man’s darling not his weak little cunt. Do you remember saying those words? Do you recall the sounds I made? Chocking sobbing noises? Gurgles of despair? The laughter is no longer audible to me.
No, I am no leading lady. I am a footnote constantly scared of her own shadow. However, as solitary as I find myself, I continue to pretend I am somebody. I say, ” You matter,” to that empty reflection in the mirror. I wander around specter like, haunting the rooms in which I live.
I go on. I have no other choice really. My heart refuses to stop; the body continues to move. I play at pretending I didn’t love you.