Hot Tears

annafromcraigslist:

mcskinney:

The first night I must have looked pretty cool with my hands covered in all that blood and gravel. The second night I must have motored right past pretty cool straight up to stone fucking cool covered in all the blood and gravel. There were looks. I saw. The third night was the charm. Hearing your unfortunate friend hiss as I walked by “weird, your boyfriend isn’t covered in half the club’s blood” told me nothing other than you do. You should have seen your face when you finally made your move and I just got up and left. Snubbing, excrement, dirt, whatever it is, it fucking always works. The thing was I totally loved you. At that point we had never really spoken but I loved you nonetheless. We shared meaningful conversations at night when I was isolated, even with others I was always alone. Some nights we shared a flat. I liked your look. Always have been big on other planetary gut feelings and Valley Girl endings. That following morning you drove over an hour to my house just to tape a note to my window telling me that I was “it.” How fucking romantic was that? It’s the little things as such that kill relationships because you could never do anything that spectacular ever again. Youth had no high notes so naturally I took the bait as something more than it really was. I lost mass notches on your corner pole when I placed that call to your work. You actually sold vacations and I was a customer in need of an escape. Were the roses too much? I had never done anything so cheap and text book before. However I was different, if you keep repeating such fantasies you will eventually believe them and I did. You killed me for dreaming but ironically enough still to this day you ask about me. The bouquet reigns as your most beloved sniff of romance. If you could still consider the third night a charm than the fourth night was a rusty nail. All that energy and barely even any tit. I bought you a Happy Meal, cigarettes, and nail polish. I put my hand on your leg in the car and felt death. Your frostiness made me want to die but it only made me cling harder. I never left your side once that night. The kids wanted to fight and I walked away. There was a certain way the light caught your eye and momentarily I thought you deserved better. Regardless you let me in your bed and gave me your back. I played with your hair and felt snakes. Chain smoking on the right side, leaning over you to ash while you huffed annoyance, I almost took up talking to God. I never gave up with the touching and mental persuasion. Just before the sun made it official you gave in. It was nothing like your cow girlfriends told you it was going to be like. No pulling, punching, kicking, or spiting. Just a couple of cupid endorsed pushups. You even put it in for me, I was still shaking to the beat that you were something greater. Your last victim’s boxers slightly pulled down and your shirt barely pulled up, junior high offered me more passion. Sad thing is you held me back that night like no other. The idea that became you was monstrous. Not even a kiss or grip of your hand back. Coffin case. I’d played dead in the morning too so I knew. You showered with the door locked (and what a painful snap that was… so loud). And the bed took on the shape of a noose. Sky high with the horrors I picked up your ancient dialer phone and called for a marriage license but the line was busy. Your hair looked porno hot wet. You drove me home in silence and I though about kissing every rig that passed us. Granted only a couple of heartfelt thrusts but there were pieces of me missing in her for years. The stench of her body hardens me to this day as I replay the conversation that went down right as we passed a symbolic hanging piano on the freeway. “Some advice. You will never have me again, honestly don’t ever call me, I won’t pick up. Girls like guys who fuck and fight like animals, we don’t actually want princes and if we already have one, well we are cheating on him with the guy I drove over an hour to tape a note to his door, you at the club stabbing a guy with a bottle over nothing not you following me around looking all lost and weak. Girls don’t want dinner and flowers, they want to be taken, even if they say they don’t. I should be waiting by the phone wondering where you are not the other way around. You killed this for me by showing you were human on the first date. Not what I was looking for.”