Please! Stop!
He keeps walking away
and I
keep screaming.
No one seems to hear
the cries of a
broken girl.
I just want to be
whole again.
What do I need to do
to make them see
that I'm not worthless?
I don't have an answer
So I just keep screaming
until the screams turn to
tears.
sharp tears
tears that could kill.
They just might kill me.
Please.
Please. Stop.
Mitch sits on the porch steps. He see his daughter near the tire swing. She spins and spins and spins, her tight blonde curls flying around her as the late evening breeze weaves its fingers through her hair. He thinks of how much she looks like an angel. The force of her delightful twirling sends her tumbling back into the soft grass beneath her. Mitch looks to his wife resting her head on his shoulder as she sleeps and smiles. This is their life and it is good.
He embraces me and I smile.
The cheat!
Just to make this good, I even rest my head on his chest. Deep breaths to make myself seem calm, even when anger and hurt course through my body.
"How was your weekend, Honey?" The question in casual as I run my fingers through his hair. He kisses me and says, "It was alright. How about your's?" I kiss him back and try not to think about what I'm about to do.
"It was fine. Oh, I have something to show you." I reach into my back pocket and show him the...
"Well, I'm sorry if I led you on." My voice is sarcastic and bitter and a little more harsh than I'd intended but I can't take it back now so instead I use the momentum to carry my forward.
"Yeah, well, you did. Why did you have to go and stomp on my heart again, huh?" I can feel the hot blood burning in my ears.
"Too bad!" I scream as loud as I can. My throat is sore but I don't care.
"You know what? This conversation is over." I can't believe him.
"Fine!" I just want to get...
He ducks out of my way and a flash of white pain shoots up my arm. I look up and see the cracks in the wall left from the impact of my fist. I ball and unball my fist a few times and try to push the pain out of my mind. A sharp cry comes from somewhere and I think it might be my own voice. I lift a hand to my head and my fingers come away bright red. When did I hit my head? I push myself up from the floor and try to ignore the black...
"Well, if you don't feel like telling me her name, at least tell me what she looks like."
She's perfect. Skin as unblemished as the first snow fall, dark blue eyes that always dance when she sees me, brown hair that shines in the moonlight when we meet in the garden behind her house. Her voice is smooth, young, and playful and I love her. But if they knew who she was... Who knows what they'd do if they knew that the one I love is a Capulet? I'm Romeo, for goodness sake! The son of Lord Montague, enemy of...
With tears running down my cheeks, my hand on top of hers she looked up at me and said, "Do you know what we are? We're the friends who became sisters." I smiled at her and laughed a little. I felt like my heart was expanding in that moment and ready to burst with all the joy I felt and I didn't try to stop it. "Sisters." I geuss the old saying is true, then: Friends are family you chose for yourself.
I don't even notice as he walks up behind me and presses something into my hand. "See you later," and he's gone. I open my palm and see the huge plastic easter egg that he gave me. It's a light purple and blank, no clues. Carefully, hopefully, I open it up. "Please, please let there be a note inside. Please." I pop it open and look inside. Nothing. But it's not empty. It's full of disappointment. Disappointment and a single tear.
I see his face in my mind's eye and feel my chest being lit on fire. It's not fair. Everything is so perfect when I'm with him, but I always have to wake up and come back to the cold reality that he is only the
Man of my Dreams.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to make his image disappear from where it has burned onto the backs of my eyelids, forming each time I close my eyes again. I feel like screaming at the unfairness of it all until I have no voice left for anything but...
I'm trying to hang on, really I am. My arms are tired and my muscles burn as sweat and tears find their way into my eyes, making them sting. "Hang on," you say. What if I fall? What then? Can you catch me if I fall? I think I might slip. My fingers are striped red and white from gripping this rockface for such a long time and my head is spinning. I can't make sense of anything for one horrible moment and then I am surrounded by water. I realize that I have fallen into the ocean. The last...