An Ex Anthology
Love and Expectation
People are meaning assigned. He gave me more than I could hold. More than I could feel. For him. Even as I tried.
He contorted pose. Held his breath. Chipped away at his soul. Until there was almost nothing left. He was emaciated and gaping. Aching. A shadow waif. Muscles draped on bones held in place by sunkissed skin and enervated chagrin.
I wanted so badly to love him for all the ways he gave himself to that which he loved. Candlelit baths drawn with blood. Satin sheets veiled empty feasts. Beauty and tragedy. A grand imagining lacking capacity. I tried in vain to feel him through the weight of his worth. But mine was miscarried love, and his pain was all it birthed. It should have been easy. He offered me everything. Everything but feeling.
A carcinogenic intrigue.
Unfazed
Doting
Fixated
He molded me from the clay of his dreams. Assembled and rearranged until he was convinced that I was the end of his search for meaning. History garishly repeating. I became his prized possession and suffocated in his needing. Panic.
I am fleeting. Twisted into doll parts with a black heart. Bleeding. His brown eyes empty, searching. Vacuuming the spaces between, trying desperately to reach me. Waves crashing against rocky shores unmoved by…
