Chapter 1


so basically the first time i noticed,
we were at a party,
and everything i saw was kinda spinny and i was giddier than usual,
and he had his grip on my arm like a vice because you wouldn't believe how many heels i've broken.
and the wild-eyed girl approaches him and asks why doesn't he lighten up,
just have a drink,
just be normal,
just act normal,
and he brushes this aside with a laugh,
saying "i have to be up early tomorrow."
but then it's six in the morning and neither of us have slept,
and he's sitting with his head in his hands,
and his daddy's in the other room and i know for a fact that he's been drinking jack since eleven o'clock the previous morning,
and his daddy is a good man,
i know he is.
but this boy is sobbing his heart out because he doesn't want to end up like his daddy,
and he tells me how he put liquor in something once;
dread rushed through his gums and fear rotted his teeth and
he doesn't want to be like his daddy.

i am in class and i am pulling at my sleeves,
checking my concealer in a pocket mirror,
and she turns around in her chair to ask why i'm dressed so warmly,
why i wear so much makeup.
i freeze in my tracks and the excuses run through my mind;
but in reality, i want to grab her hand and run her fingers along my scars,
show her every bruise, every burn,
i want to scrub my makeup off and show her why i wear so much,
because i don't know how to explain that the only thing holding me together is self-hate,
and it's hard to voice how just living has become a punishment as of late --
the age-old excuse tumbles from my lips,
and i tell her that, darling, "i am simply constantly cold."


© 2020 Polarity Technologies

Invite Next Author

Write a short message (optional)

or via Email

Enter Quibblo Username


Report This Content