#relabso

                THIS, THE BOOKS WOULD SAY LATER, IS WHAT THEY CALL THE TALE OF LOVE & LOSS   ——-       in the silence between a word and another, in the anger of fingers that curl, of eyes that shut, of a heart that falls to pieces   :     love and loss and loss and love, again and again and again, as if in a loop    ——–    this, the books would say later, is the tale of the girl who never learns. 

               part one  :  love   —–     how does he do it, still?   make her heart flutter inside of her chest, rapid beats against caged ribs, every word meaning more than the other, fingers begging to reach out, tongue begging to say yes yes yes.  how does he do it, still?  bring out the primordial inside of her, the apex of desire and need   :   you’ve been alone for so long, you forgot what it was like to have someone   (   don’t be foolish, little girl. you don’t have him. you’ve never had him  )    .        ❛   henry   —-   ❜   and still, his name sounds like a prayer on your lips, a litany of five letters and one word, again and again and again   —–   how can one name feel so heavy against parted lips, parted heart?  

          part two  :   loss   —–    eyes open, tongue clicks,  and it all comes back   :   how could you forget, little girl, of the gap that he left inside of you?  anger bites at her fingertips, rage claws at her throat like fingers wrapped around until her breath is nothing but a choke.    here,    she ought to point out, is where i hid the loss of you.    here,    she ought to show, is where i forgot of the heart that beats inside of me.  here,     trembling fingers ought to mark, is where i never once forgot you.   you’re so empty, little girl, how come you’re so empty?   foolish, senseless little girl    :    when will you learn, that his presence is intoxicating, inebriating, impossible.   he’s left one and he’ll leave again and you’ll be feeling this loss forever and ever and ever. 

          silence grows to fill the voids inside of the room, clawing at the air with hungry paws   —–    say something, says the voice in her head. say something or you’ll choke on your own tongue.   nails dig into palms  (   you thought you had gotten rid of that habit, didn’t you, little girl? oh ) ,  and she faces him, finally, finally, hair falling against her eyes.   ❛    i  think i should go.  ❜    whose voice is that, coming out of your mouth? who does that coldness belong to?      

        ❛    NO, I DON’T THINK THAT’S A GOOD IDEA.    ❜       is it uncertainty that follows each syllable that her lips leaves?      or is it fear?   fear, yes, of the way in which her body still calls to his, with the simplest of words, fear, yes, of the manner in which with nothing but a glance he drags his teeth through her heart and still, still, opens gashing wounds that bleed, and bleed, and bleed.                     

      ❛   WOULD IT KILL YOU, henry, to admit once that capitalism sucks?   ❜