Dangly little long layered locks are like my public blanket to childishly hide under so you can’t see my face. God knows you don’t want to, but I know you don’t want to more. I wouldn’t ask that of you.2
Creeping fabric from shoulders to wrists, you itch and cling to everything you hide. My opposite arm slithers slyly beneath you to scratch the crying scabs it put there. My truthful delight. As the hidden factor bleeds and clots the curtain lowers on top soaking every inch of hurt.3
Fast dancing to a slow song. I feel amongst the blue Berber carpet and soft dog hair. I smile even though song draws recollections of times with everyone. Good or bad, I compress the tears behind my eyes again and sniff. Then giggle so I feel a slight hint of crazy that I fear I am.4
Crowded and surrounded of papers and notebooks and an alarm clock, my cell phone, an empty Kleenex box, and an empty piggy bank, a loose fake flower adrift from one of many other floral arrangements, and a dictionary, I am lonely. I have drifted away from who everyone thinks I am and whom I think everyone is and I am just me for a moment. Partially under my black comforter. 5
The dusty fan blows my mildly wet hair onto my chest, back and nose. My fingers search through it finding themselves lonesome. I think upon tomorrow, something I used to find myself sunken in optimism about and now I just randomly guess of beaten replay of everyday. Still lonely. 6
A foot dangles out into the alignment of wind from the fan it gets beyond cold and I reel it back beneath my thick blanket. My hair falls past my nose I smell the shampoo. Purposely my head begins to fill of all things that upset me.7
I wrap my arms around myself and remember the scent of you. My eyes take me away to another place freely. Torturing myself with this burden of a stereotype that’s been placed on me by that “educational” institute of bullshit because I don’t meet the small town requirements. I…8
I fluff up a few pillows so they pout out like your chest and stomach and cover us with my blanket your favorite place excepts its not your blanket. I feel like you still breathing hellaciously hot air onto my hair. It stirs the scent into you and you inhale. I hear you go “Mmmm” and I smirk. “Why are you smirking?” You always preciously precisely knew if I smiled or smirked, could call it on a dime, even in the dark. I’d giggle because I always was.9
“Beauty queen of only 18 she had some trouble with herself…. Tap on my window, knock on my door I wanna make you feel beautiful,” you whispery sing to me as tears fill my eyes.10
I fly back. I flip open my phone and no messages from you while I was gone. So lonely the beauty I felt from you is gone. It went when I stepped out of your blue car. The color followed me. It comes and goes as I see you. I want to reach out to you to help me.11
But I just suffer in silence because if you knew I missed you, you’d love it. It makes it harder to move onto someone else. And you’d be so pissed if you knew people heard this.
12BeccaB13
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