Indigo Night

You grabbed my arm and stared at my wrists. I looked at you but your gaze was towards my wrists. I began to see rain form in your eyes.

I could feel your sadness, shame and disappointment through your shaky fingertips as they caressed over the carving of flesh. You felt the pain because it was your wrists that were slit as well; because my flesh was your flesh.

Your heart broke when you saw them. It’s only fair since you had broken mine too. It must be so tiring to keep reassuring someone that they’re worth it. You gave up on me.

So now your new brunette girlfriend. She’s ok. But does she make you feel? Does she pour her heart out in 3 am texts and does she kiss you so hard that you feel as if you’re gulping down stars? Does she insist on holding your hand when even when it’s -20 outside and your hands will probably freeze clasped in together? Does she brush the hair out of your eyes and write bitter poetry about that time you forgot to say “I love you” back.

I’m not perfect but I loved you with every fiber of my existence. Loneliness and sadness is part of the human experience. And you made me feel fucking everything. She’s so transparent. Maybe she doesn’t have cigarette smoke lingering in her lungs and she doesn’t swallow pills hysterically because of random flashbacks of her drunken uncle and dead beat father, but she’ll never kiss you goodnight when you have bad breath because of all the alcohol and emptiness like I used to. I didn’t mind at all. You tasted like fire and it burned my mouth a little. But I’d let you kiss me until the sun collapses in on itself if it meant a happier ending.

So I guess you’ve moved on.