Nausea: You

And you’re so strange. Wandering the streets open mouthed and lost, digging into your pockets for something to save you, listlessly smiling. And you’re so strange as I pull on your sleeve, silly little darling thing. Looking, begging, whimpering half torn apart for your affection. Your promise still rancid in my ear. That you’d hold my curves to your chest, feel your heart pump thick blood through your full body. Make me feel safe. But your eyes whip around, lost and frenzied. Stealing away from me. A second glance slanting through your pure blue eyes. No longer pure but polluted. An euphony waiting for me in your face. How I found you by surprise a year ago. Lost and sad. My heart stretching itself thin across the razor sharp claws of my ribcage thumping ‘take him, take him‘. It needed your touch, your soft eyes and quiet breath. And I looked up and into your eyes, to find surprises of surprises, green as spring apples fresh from their leaves new in the sun. my breath strangling in my throat. And now a year later. Here I am sleeping in your bed, clutching to the shadow you threw at me, choking back the vomit of truth rising steadily over my tonsils and licking at my glands. Shuddering with the pillow case and feeling your large form roll over, heavy and solid. Your face in my hands, tracing little blonde hairs lining smiles and frowns, breathing you. Breathing you. Your eyes blue blue blue, but you open them slow. My lips twitch and I feel the fight of the vomit at my canine teeth. Peeled open, the sun shifting through and picking up the changes. Your clean blue eyes, pure and mine swiftly turned to this hazel green, strange and unfamiliar. I flinched away, my hands in the air, horrified.

Strange you are.

Turning over.

Mumbling go to sleep.

While I’m vomiting despair into your bed.