The windowless walls were marked with stains where my body had been thrown, shivering and screaming in the heavy silence that was clinging to my ears like it was protection. I refused it; I would not be a rag doll. Get up.
"You won't leave." Denial. There was a frantic anger in your eyes.
Things were so much easier before they got real. Because the truth won't set you free. No, it'll tear you open; rip every organ and feed to you pain so raw you'd think it was nonexistent.
I saw you stumble in, half dressed, beer in left hand, another girl on your right. That was all the confirmation I needed to validate my suspicions. The filthy secrets had been hidden beneath the bed and the in the cabinets and in your jean pockets. Linda. I traced the places where lipstick stains had been left, willing them to disappear under my fingertips. I tasted the skin that I had thought for so long had been mine alone, but who else had you shared it with? And I couldn't stand to touch your fingers, or look at them. There was anger in my voice…."Didn't the music mean anything?"
Yes, the music. That's what had kept us alive for so long. It like that small violin had breathed the love in us, made us able to go on, night after drunken, wasted, broken night. The devils instrument, but you had long since sold you soul. And the music was ours….How could I know now that the music hadn't been played to every other lover that crossed your soiled path? Get me away from the fingers. I walked out.
I had to find someone else, just for one night. So I could consume myself in something intangible, something heavy. And I wouldn't stop dancing. When the owner came to shoo me out, I danced the streets in broad midnight. That's right. I danced those truths away. I stopped under the moon an spun and I wouldn't stop spinning until I was safely in the air, defying gravity with my twirls and my screams, and it didn't matter that gravity would leave my dress on the ground. But suddenly, the moon changed into your face.
"Stop." There was pleading, and you were mine again for one moment. I licked away your tears, and they tasted like cold metal and forget-me-nots that were yet ready to bloom. Your hair was drenched in the smell of your violin. I could feel the strings tucked in the stands somewhere. No.
It'll be too soon if I ever see you again.
I knew you would find more, just like me and just like her, free samples. You'd have a taste of each one, each flavor. Each one is unique in the same way. But I wouldn't be subject to these bed-ridden emotions anymore.