Descend the Stair
folder
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
644
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
644
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Descend the Stair
Title: Descend The Stair...
Note: These were the third and fourth, respectivly, in a series of self-imposed writing prompts.
I:
I hate you.
Words practiced in front of a mirror that can never seem to fall off my tongue as I stare at your face.
But I do have you.
Sort of.
I don't like you.
That's better.
I love you.
But I don't like the person you've made me.
I don't like the face that I see now, in the mirror, when I practice breaking up with you.
All of the hot water is long gone, so I shut off the tap. The room is cool as I attack my skin with a faded towel, pulling off dead skin and turning my pale flesh to a reddish hue.
There is no need to dress, because there is no one here to dress for. You're not home again, and, once more, you haven't called, and I think I do hate you for that.
There is nothing but cool cotton here with me as I throw myself under the covers of the bed.
The bed.
Our bed.
Not my bed.
Your bed.
I have ransomed my place in your life with my body, and you have earned your place in mine by stealing away the tiny pieces of my heart.
I have given you all of myself, which you readily accepted. You even give parts of me back again on occasion, although they've grown so different in your hands that I hardly recognize them.
But I do love you.
But I do hate you.
And you don't seem to notice either one.
"I think I've already lost you.
I think you're already gone,
I think I'm finally scared now,
You think I'm weak -- I think you're wrong.
I think you're so mean -- I think we should try
I think I could need -- this in my life
I think I'm just scared that I think too much
I know this is wrong, it's a problem, I'm dealing...
There's an awful lot of breathing room,
But I can hardly move...
'Cause there's a little bit of something me
In everything in you..."
-Matchbox 20, "If You're Gone"
Note: These were the third and fourth, respectivly, in a series of self-imposed writing prompts.
I:
I hate you.
Words practiced in front of a mirror that can never seem to fall off my tongue as I stare at your face.
But I do have you.
Sort of.
I don't like you.
That's better.
I love you.
But I don't like the person you've made me.
I don't like the face that I see now, in the mirror, when I practice breaking up with you.
All of the hot water is long gone, so I shut off the tap. The room is cool as I attack my skin with a faded towel, pulling off dead skin and turning my pale flesh to a reddish hue.
There is no need to dress, because there is no one here to dress for. You're not home again, and, once more, you haven't called, and I think I do hate you for that.
There is nothing but cool cotton here with me as I throw myself under the covers of the bed.
The bed.
Our bed.
Not my bed.
Your bed.
I have ransomed my place in your life with my body, and you have earned your place in mine by stealing away the tiny pieces of my heart.
I have given you all of myself, which you readily accepted. You even give parts of me back again on occasion, although they've grown so different in your hands that I hardly recognize them.
But I do love you.
But I do hate you.
And you don't seem to notice either one.
"I think I've already lost you.
I think you're already gone,
I think I'm finally scared now,
You think I'm weak -- I think you're wrong.
I think you're so mean -- I think we should try
I think I could need -- this in my life
I think I'm just scared that I think too much
I know this is wrong, it's a problem, I'm dealing...
There's an awful lot of breathing room,
But I can hardly move...
'Cause there's a little bit of something me
In everything in you..."
-Matchbox 20, "If You're Gone"