"GET THE FUCK OUT YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!"
I duck as she throws my Yeezys at my head. I’m thinking, gotta be faster than that, babe. I step outside on the front porch. Head is beaming with heat, vein popping down to my left eyeball, heart palpitations. Would it be so bad if the fibers of my heart intertwined, and stopped being able to dance around with my blood? I take out a cigarette, quickly light it like a lung-failure patient jumps on an oxygen-mask. Deep, deep pull inside. Tilt my head up towards the wooden porch ceiling. Mold, yellowing, broken wood boards. Deep exhale out. Dragon breath. Yes, it would be bad. Let’s not die today. It was 0 degrees cold but I felt hotter than a summer in Mexico.
Thinking back to where we first met, and how we first looked at each other. How we first smiled. My goofy smile, her pretty, pearly-white siren smile. Lured me in like Calypso, the nymph detained Odysseus on his way back home. 7 years. 7 years Odysseus was trapped in her land. Lot of married men will tell you that’s nothing. Try 25 years and 24 and half with no sex, kiddo. Hahahaha.
Shut the fuck up. Nothing funny about your misery.
We met in a bookstore, which is ironic because I rarely ever read back then. But there she was. Dark brown hair, luscious locks draping down behind her skinny shoulders. Dimples in her clavicle. Pretty lips and alluring green-ember eyes. It didn’t take long for us to go out. The spark was there like a dead battery jumped by a V-8 truck. I could listen to her all day, and it wasn’t tough. She had a lot to say, and there was never a really dull moment. Always found that peculiar in a girl, when she’s talkative. But I never complained.
I remember we were invited to a party. I was running late so she showed up half an hour earlier. When I arrived, there was a guy speaking to her. She was never really able to tell a guy to fuck off, too sweet-hearted and kind for that. Kind of a bimbo, looking back. I need a girl who’s socially adept, knowledgeable of intersex dynamics, knows when a guy’s flirting (always), and knows how to excuse herself. But she was my sweetheart. We went home that night. I don’t think we slept for longer than an hour. Sweet, summer sweat. Wish I had a cigarette enthusiasm back then. Would’ve been even nicer, although, I didn’t think it could get better.
It couldn’t.
It’s always easier to find a new girl to fall in love with, despite however closed off you become from previous heartbreaks, than it is to let go of a girl you’ve fallen out of love with, for fear of never finding someone like her again.
Deep pull.
I love smoking. Cigarettes in particular. My deepest memories and feelings come out in thinly veiled smoke out in front of my eyes. Used to make me teary-eyed, the smoke. But now my contact lenses dance around in the fire like my heart dances with my blood. For now.