Status: seeing where this gets the most love. / last big edit: 2/11/13
Prose On Your Tongue
oo8.
“Merilyn, Ana, Destiny, and Stacy,” Lilian recites without much thought, just finishing up painting her toenails a dark blue on my bedroom floor. “They’re a bunch of trouble, Dan; all they do is fuck guys and party leap for some weed or beer. If Tanner’s interested in that, then he doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.”
I look from up from my book and huff at her, the dinner we’ve just eaten churning in my stomach and threatening to come up. “But that’s the thing — Nes likes trouble. He’ll chase it if it runs.” I flip mindlessly through the pages in my book, staring over her frail shoulder and at my bedroom door, feeling a little tight in the chest and heavy at the same time, really, like there’re two forces pulling me completely different directions.
I can’t get their meeting out of my head; it’s like they were taken right out of one of my many romance novels sitting in my bookshelf and were placed in front of me, taunting me, teasing me, reminding me that I’ll never be what Nes wants no matter how many times I pray to God for forgiveness. Because the glow in his eyes — the glow — was like someone punched him in the face and he was seeing stars, bright, bright stars, and when it faded there was Merilyn, an angel to blot away the hypothetical blood with her kisses and fluttering eyes.
They were like something new to one another, something foreign, and neither knew really how to tackle this new want, this new yearning. She spoke and Nes was listening, oh was he listening, a weary hand pressed to her hip and remaining there for as long as she let it. And if this newfound love wasn’t so beautiful I would’ve sobbed, cried like a baby, because Nes had so easily slipped away.
“Maybe he’ll realize,” Lilian offers quietly. “Maybe he’ll . . . he’ll realize it, I’m sure.” But the hesitance in her voice makes the reassurement fall flat, and I’m left with this awful taste in my mouth.
The dinner coming up, probably.
----
my mind is
blurry
and you never bothered to
pick up the
pieces.
I look from up from my book and huff at her, the dinner we’ve just eaten churning in my stomach and threatening to come up. “But that’s the thing — Nes likes trouble. He’ll chase it if it runs.” I flip mindlessly through the pages in my book, staring over her frail shoulder and at my bedroom door, feeling a little tight in the chest and heavy at the same time, really, like there’re two forces pulling me completely different directions.
I can’t get their meeting out of my head; it’s like they were taken right out of one of my many romance novels sitting in my bookshelf and were placed in front of me, taunting me, teasing me, reminding me that I’ll never be what Nes wants no matter how many times I pray to God for forgiveness. Because the glow in his eyes — the glow — was like someone punched him in the face and he was seeing stars, bright, bright stars, and when it faded there was Merilyn, an angel to blot away the hypothetical blood with her kisses and fluttering eyes.
They were like something new to one another, something foreign, and neither knew really how to tackle this new want, this new yearning. She spoke and Nes was listening, oh was he listening, a weary hand pressed to her hip and remaining there for as long as she let it. And if this newfound love wasn’t so beautiful I would’ve sobbed, cried like a baby, because Nes had so easily slipped away.
“Maybe he’ll realize,” Lilian offers quietly. “Maybe he’ll . . . he’ll realize it, I’m sure.” But the hesitance in her voice makes the reassurement fall flat, and I’m left with this awful taste in my mouth.
The dinner coming up, probably.
----
my mind is
blurry
and you never bothered to
pick up the
pieces.
♠ ♠ ♠
new layout again. im never satisfied i guess.