Lost in space
All day I've felt like some great ice-cream scoop has come along and scooped my heart out. It was muggy, but now the rain is beating my washing on the line and there's thunder in the sky near by. I have nothing to say that isn't a disapointment. Chain smoking cigarettes that leave my lips dry but comfort me, a lung-hug, they stop my hands shaking a bit. I'm sorry. I wish I could write you a heroine. My hair and t-shirt are wet from the argument we had outside as the sky split open. Me yelling at him not to go. I was afraid to be alone. Afraid of myself. Feeling dark and full of loathing for the girl who is me. I'm not good at asking for help, even worse at begging. But I did, looking at the cracks on the pavement, the small brown loquats the birds had ravaged, squashed beneath my toes. The space between us filled with rain. I looked up into his face but it was closed, and his eyes were impatient. No understanding. Frustrated, he tried to reassure me that he loved me. IT'S NOT THAT YOU FUCKHEAD, I KNOW YOU LOVE ME, I'M JUST AFRAID OF DEATH TODAY AND IT'S CALLING MY NAME AND I NEED SOMEONE TO PROTECT ME FROM THE SHADOWS. But it doesn't make sense, even to me, why should it make sense to him?