engagement flaws

Unfaithful moments were always whispered on the walls of our rooms, and in our beds. The sheets could talk in garbled messages that I elatedly ignored for the sake of “ignorance is bliss”. Moments that our lips met and mine came away bloodied, and you watched languidly, perhaps at one point, stirred by my pain. Now you stand unmoving, and I’m held in your suffocating grip, struggling to whisper into your neck, “your conscious knows we’re not meant to be”. And maybe mine too, but I refuse to acknowledge that prospect.

Late-night talks on the phone with a female, and I’m grumbling to myself not to cry when your whispered words were once made for me. Like “I love the taste of your skin,” and, “delve between your thighs for your fervor”. They were made for me, and she was just an ersatz for me so I wished to believe. I worked my fingers around myself until I fell to the brink of times before rushed love. and it’s his face that peels away when I return to reality.

In the morning, roses and wines are set out for us, and I’m smashing the impeccable crystal glasses just to spite you. Then your eyes turn sinister, and I’m satisfied that you still feel something, feel the tears alleviate the firmness of your skin, and my nightmares aren’t real. So you hold me in your arms, and stroke my hair, and repeat silently, “I still love you, I still love you,” and the words are muffled by my sobs and the nasally breathing walls of your mind.

So we turned to smell her contemptible-aroma and cigarette smoke clutching to your skin—evaporating only when I slam my nose into your shoulder and take my teeth to your heart. Ripping apart what’s under your ribs to see if you really have a heart, or it’s just a hollow echo of my own once upon a time synced with yours. “I never intended to wound you; never intended for you to find out about her”, but the damage is done, and I’m broken, my mouth slack with the words meant to be passed between intimate lovers. Meant to be passed between you and I—and instead when your lips are pressed against mine to mitigate the ache wedged in between my fractured ribs—they were ripped from me without me realizing it.

Then times blurred past, and I couldn’t believe the face that comforted me at night, when your side grew cold late at night. I pretended that he lay there, instead, and we were pressed cheek against cheek, in his granite embrace. And my heart stilled in moments of peace and your voice was lost upon my ears.

I hope that you enjoy this so far. There are two other chapters to this, like a short collection. Please review, because it's appreciated. And as soon as I can, I will return the comments.