Titled un

Late. Awake, waiting. For what? I don’t. I don’t. Wait. slick pearls of damp dread, me wanting to hurt myself for the first time in a long time. Because it’s different, it’s different when you do it yourself. But I won’t because I would feel childish and mad at myself later. He would be mad at me and look at me with that one face that is part disappointment, part anger, part love, part possessiveness, and a tiny shining glint of humor. “I’m the only one who’s allowed to hurt you.” he would say, and it would sound romantic to me, because of the structure of our relationship and the things we do when we are alone. And maybe it is enough, tonight, to just say that I feel that pull. Tonight, i think t is enough. Instead, go downstairs. Plug in for a while. Check the disks, make a switch, think about something, anything, else. Tumblr is good. Tumblr is my favorite. I wish it wasn’t already nearly 3am. Or maybe I wish I was tired, or something. Curious, just, how would the night have gone if I had simply not mentioned the hot water. Mysteries of life and things I’ll never know. Tagged/lol … and scroll. 

 

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One thought on “Titled un

  1. Warren Rainer says:

    Wish I knew what to say other than I’m sorry.

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