Upper Hand
The three of us. It's been five years since i've seen you; one year more than it took for you to ruin my life. And here we are.
Me, you, and your new girlfriend of two years. I wonder if she's been spared the pain of you sleeping with your old girlfriends. well, we're about to find out.
I like her, she's bubbly. Blond and spontaneous. And really nice. I ran into you two at her work. Which just happens to be a block from your house. You two live together.
I was having the worst day. Puppy problems, a fight with a best friend, and a skinned knee that won't heal.
I'm in the open stairwell of the antiques shop/cafe she works at. Loudly arguing with my friend who is unsympathetically helping me maneuver this red, country style chest, over the hand rail. It's not working.
Once i see you it's too late. I would never have seen you again if it were up to me. But there I am in all my glory: huffy, ripped open knee, pushing my friend to her amiable limits.
She bails, and sure enough it begins to pour.
You carry the birdhouse shaped chest the two blocks to your and her new place. you'll give me a ride when it lets up.
She is kind, offers me tea to warm up. and all i can think of is fucking you. i've always thought of what it would be like to let you take me over like you used to. you are not a good person. you broke my heart. and part of me hopes you will break hers.
We all stay in. End up drinking. and she falls asleep. this room is dark, with only the t.v on, just like your room was when i was fifteen. i'm wet. i can't help it. and i hope you want the green gym shorts your girlfriend has lent me to come off as much as i do.
You do. i can see it in your sweats. we're going to fuck. there's no way around it. but the apartment seems much smaller now. and the living room and bed room are only separated by the back of the couch i'm sitting on. but it doesn't matter. you take me over to the thigh high bed and i turn around and bend over.
the best part is the first touch, and with that we're fucking like we never missed a beat. i don't love you. and this act of insolence, youthful ignorance, isn't going to help. isn't going to change anything. it certainly wont make my parents like you anymore.
it's not the physical act. it's not the delightful pain, or the undivided attention. it's that i want his wanting me. i loved him like a child. and he treated me like one.
she wakes. sleepy eyes look over and process what she sees. she gets up, walks to the bathroom. we pause, and when she comes out she isn't mad. he's done this before. "i thought we were working on this", she says. Fuck, she's his kind. not treacherous, but unaffected. she looks at me, "you should also know he said you were used up". i get up.
I call my friend to pick me up. we can put the fucking birdhouse in the back of his truck. i never want to see you again. but this time i mean it. and this time it's you who has the upper hand.
Me, you, and your new girlfriend of two years. I wonder if she's been spared the pain of you sleeping with your old girlfriends. well, we're about to find out.
I like her, she's bubbly. Blond and spontaneous. And really nice. I ran into you two at her work. Which just happens to be a block from your house. You two live together.
I was having the worst day. Puppy problems, a fight with a best friend, and a skinned knee that won't heal.
I'm in the open stairwell of the antiques shop/cafe she works at. Loudly arguing with my friend who is unsympathetically helping me maneuver this red, country style chest, over the hand rail. It's not working.
Once i see you it's too late. I would never have seen you again if it were up to me. But there I am in all my glory: huffy, ripped open knee, pushing my friend to her amiable limits.
She bails, and sure enough it begins to pour.
You carry the birdhouse shaped chest the two blocks to your and her new place. you'll give me a ride when it lets up.
She is kind, offers me tea to warm up. and all i can think of is fucking you. i've always thought of what it would be like to let you take me over like you used to. you are not a good person. you broke my heart. and part of me hopes you will break hers.
We all stay in. End up drinking. and she falls asleep. this room is dark, with only the t.v on, just like your room was when i was fifteen. i'm wet. i can't help it. and i hope you want the green gym shorts your girlfriend has lent me to come off as much as i do.
You do. i can see it in your sweats. we're going to fuck. there's no way around it. but the apartment seems much smaller now. and the living room and bed room are only separated by the back of the couch i'm sitting on. but it doesn't matter. you take me over to the thigh high bed and i turn around and bend over.
the best part is the first touch, and with that we're fucking like we never missed a beat. i don't love you. and this act of insolence, youthful ignorance, isn't going to help. isn't going to change anything. it certainly wont make my parents like you anymore.
it's not the physical act. it's not the delightful pain, or the undivided attention. it's that i want his wanting me. i loved him like a child. and he treated me like one.
she wakes. sleepy eyes look over and process what she sees. she gets up, walks to the bathroom. we pause, and when she comes out she isn't mad. he's done this before. "i thought we were working on this", she says. Fuck, she's his kind. not treacherous, but unaffected. she looks at me, "you should also know he said you were used up". i get up.
I call my friend to pick me up. we can put the fucking birdhouse in the back of his truck. i never want to see you again. but this time i mean it. and this time it's you who has the upper hand.
posted by love dies too at
9:21 PM
1 Comments:
YESSSSSSSS
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