Amanda My dark former love.

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Alex756
Alex756
10 Followers

Amanda

I get home from class and hear the water running covering the sound of your crying.
You’re sitting on the tile floor, shivering as you down painkillers (I hope) with gin.
Your soft blond hair is dirty, and your shirt stained with vomit from last night.
“I’m home.” I want to hug you but don’t. I try to smile and you try back.
Neither of us succeeds.

I go leave to make dinner and you try to clean up. Try to hide what you do to yourself.
Painting your face to hide the dark shadows and worries and fears
I sit on the kitchen counter, reading Bronte and stirring ramen same as every other day
You walk out of the bathroom naked. Your breasts jutting the cold apartment air.
Bruises on your arms.

I try not to watch as you lie on the futon and pull on your clothes or lack of clothes.
Black thong, black bra, and a low cut dress barely there that shows both.
You were beautiful when I first saw you. Happy and worry free. The love of my life
Now I don’t even know you, a stranger in my bed. A stranger with my lovers body
Smelling of strange men.

You don’t want dinner. I should have known. You never eat, not any more.
I walk over to be near you, before you cover those pretty tresses of yours.
I try and smile as I wrap my arms around you and softly kiss.
No matter who else kisses those lips, I know you come home to me
After they’ve thrown you aside.

Softly my hands run over your sides, trying to warm you in your too thin dress.
You smile and sigh, leaning into me as I hold you tight.
I don’t want to let you go, but I know you won’t stay.
You’re eyes haven’t died yet. Stuck in your too gaunt frame.
You’re still beautiful.

My pretty love. My pretty, blond love that took my broken heart and healed it.
As you put the black wig over your pretty hair and finish making up your face
You leave and smile back at me. You love me you say and I say it back.
I wonder if you mean it anymore. When you come home from being with them,
I wonder if I mean it.

I lay in bed alone that night. You’re late. Not late enough to call the police, again.
I think back to when we first were lovers. The touch of my lips to your beasts
The gentle caresses you delivered to me, kind sweet kisses filled with longing.
Then you were innocent and free, not for sale … like now. The phone rings.
You aren’t coming home.

Alex756
Alex756
10 Followers