Blue eyes are always going to haunt me.
And whenever someone swings me, it's his arm on my back and he is grinning into my face and whispering in a half shout-
"I think you like this."
Somedays I relive that night. That hot hot hot night that was so black I bumped into the desk and bruised my shin on the bedpost. She had been there earlier, I stepped on a wrapper in the vast black between the door that shut behind me and the two beds he'd engineered together.
And then he kissed me softly, not grabbing but slowly easing me into life, opening my eyes while I squeezed them tight shut.
The roof slanted towards the window, and when I arched my back I nearly hit my head. The room smelled pleasantly of sweat and dust mixed with the dryer sheets in the unfolded laundry in the basket.
His mouth lacked the usual bitter of beer; instead it tasted like tears, and I know it's because of Her. He stared into my eyes, seconds ticking slowly by.
"Tonight let's just sleep." I could see his hurt, it pained me but at the same time I wanted to lash out, shouting This is all your fault; you deserve this and much worse. But instead he turned on his side, wounded animal, pulling me into an embrace and squeezing me like a rag doll. I almost expected him to start sucking his thumb and crying for his mother.
In the early morning hours he woke and started tugging at me, frantically searching for warmth and desire. I wanted to tell him that I'm not her, that I don't know what I'm doing or how this works. But he soon came out of his trance and whispered,
"Is this what you want?" A long breath of silence. The past fall I would have hastily continued, but before I can breath a yes, green flecked brown flashed before my eyes.
"No."
A stifled grunt and he rolled off onto his side, leaving me gathering breath alone in great gasps.
"We can stop then. I'm not like him." I remember then, bile rising in my throat. How could he say that. How could he even think that. He was the one who pushed me, he was the only one who ever asked me for more then I wanted to give.
The next morning I grabbed my clothes and hurried away as his words chased me down the hall.
"Have a nice life..."
That's why he's always going to be there. Long after the tastes and smells have faded, long after the caresses has gone from my skin. He taught me how to be worthless, how to be used, how to apologize and grovel. He taught me that I don't deserve to be loved. So he haunts me.
Every time I hear those words, the quiet simple I love you, I wonder if I deserve it. Because somewhere, blue eyes are smirking and telling me No.
His mouth lacked the usual bitter of beer; instead it tasted like tears, and I know it's because of Her. He stared into my eyes, seconds ticking slowly by.
"Tonight let's just sleep." I could see his hurt, it pained me but at the same time I wanted to lash out, shouting This is all your fault; you deserve this and much worse. But instead he turned on his side, wounded animal, pulling me into an embrace and squeezing me like a rag doll. I almost expected him to start sucking his thumb and crying for his mother.
In the early morning hours he woke and started tugging at me, frantically searching for warmth and desire. I wanted to tell him that I'm not her, that I don't know what I'm doing or how this works. But he soon came out of his trance and whispered,
"Is this what you want?" A long breath of silence. The past fall I would have hastily continued, but before I can breath a yes, green flecked brown flashed before my eyes.
"No."
A stifled grunt and he rolled off onto his side, leaving me gathering breath alone in great gasps.
"We can stop then. I'm not like him." I remember then, bile rising in my throat. How could he say that. How could he even think that. He was the one who pushed me, he was the only one who ever asked me for more then I wanted to give.
The next morning I grabbed my clothes and hurried away as his words chased me down the hall.
"Have a nice life..."
That's why he's always going to be there. Long after the tastes and smells have faded, long after the caresses has gone from my skin. He taught me how to be worthless, how to be used, how to apologize and grovel. He taught me that I don't deserve to be loved. So he haunts me.
Every time I hear those words, the quiet simple I love you, I wonder if I deserve it. Because somewhere, blue eyes are smirking and telling me No.
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