TUESDAY NIGHT COCAINE
December 13th 2006 04:55
I remember the first time I wanted to kiss you. We were in Queens Plaza and there were people moving all around, a kid being cute, a lonely man in the corner, couples, families, cleaners, employees, people bustling all about. You were looking at them one by one but my thoughts were spitter sputtering, shooting all about as quick as my heartbeats. I wanted to ask if you could close your eyes. I wanted to take your hand. I wanted to kiss you and quickly pull away. I wanted to see your reaction. That millisecond of truth on your face before you could pull off an act, whether surprised or displeased or pleased.
It wasn’t fair. Things in my head were sad. The people in my head were sad. There was a five o’clock shadow on everything. But I kept smiling at you like I was high. I needed that kiss. It was like a full stop, a complete stop, an end, a hardened black.
I wish I hadn’t known you were sad, too, because I’m selfish that way. I wish I hadn’t found out about what happened to you. Your tears became larger, more frequent. You kept spending money on powder, and, in a cramped cubicle with me, our boss, you, and your dealer, you’d ask me how I am while spreading few lines across your palm, you’d smile and joke while rolling something up, and you’d snort and your eyes would keep closed. Did you know that people keep their eyes closed when they sneeze? Did you know that if they opened their eyes, they could die? You kissed us all that night.
Sometimes I would suddenly wake up because I dreamt of you dead. So much blow was in your system that your nostrils would become one, and you’d still keep going, your eyes red and blank, just blank, your snorting becoming more desperate, louder, the blood gushing more, the tears irrelevant, a man with no teeth floating above you, sobbing while shitting himself.
I kissed you but never liked you, and I never told you that. I just kept kissing you. I just kept watching you. We flirted at work. You undid my buttons. Your hair was long but it felt short. I never said I love you.
You slapped me when I said it was over, that I still have feelings for another girl who’s back in Brisbane for a month, a girlfriend who had moved to Sydney. You slapped me again. You slapped me again and I actually toppled backward. You slapped me again and I bled. You kicked my chest. You kicked my face. You took your shoes and you threw them at me. You pushed a table on me. A lot of things broke. You stared, breathing hard. I didn’t say anything. You took your keys and drove away.
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... a sad, haunting piece that stays with you long after it is gone...
nicely written, I also love the style...
Lilla...
Comment by Always Eighteen
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Thanks for dropping by.
Comment by Hope
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And blow... that stuff is so messed up.