He could have been anything.
She dreamt it all away.
The atoms could have just broken away.
When she kissed him she only thought of bad meat. His fake demeanor let loose like tied shoes at the end of the night. Left with breathing heavy over nothing. Left with stains on the mattress to clean. Left with stained black eyes to draw up again.
Her heels made her taller, her stylist made her more appealing. She walked with the sway in a thousand men's dreams. Dropped like glass, unfulfilled, and ready to bleed, fluttering eyelashes smash into eachother at the softest high speed.
Her arms hang on the street or on the train. She smelled of the most fragrant places, and you couldn't find one like her in any others faces. She raised a chin and eyes clung to the ceiling.
They went to the beach, they drank lavishly. His finely trimmed beard tickled her chin. Their skin would slide across the others like smooth packaging. He held her like a trophy. Walking side by side they held hands and spoke of nothing. In his head she was a stepping stone, in her head he was a possibility. Shattered dreams and misunderstandings.
She flipped through the magazines lazily on a Sunday waiting. He was busy the night before and now three hours late. A smile of annoyance creased her face for she was still in the mood for a burst of heat and forgiving. Her toe tapped to the beat of the second hand, now changing channels on the t.v. She stretched out and ran a lonely hand across freshly shaven legs. He called when she was into a bottle of wine and feeling bitterly. She gave him a hassle then asked if they could see eachother. He was once again busy. A story where there is something to do very important and immediate, something she would never check or argue to disbelieve. The red end button was pressed and the phone down and away. Disgust, like smelling rotten meat. Like feeling incomplete, obsolite, drinking to wash down the glimmers of deciet.
She checks her facebook scanning his page by page. Who were these people and what do they mean. Never met, never known, never seen. This virtual life is my life, it's your life, it's all the people in between, down and out, around, and never supposed to be. Dates and times, line by luminescent line traced by advertisement targeting your hairs illustrious shine. Put out the candles and go to bed.
Not answering. Pacing, working, wondering. Forgetting.
She sees the light shine through the glass doors. It's a sunset escaping the city. A child jumps and fumbles holding dearly to a hand and it's gone. The cars rush by and she stands next to the street alive, awake, and dreaming. Something her girlfriends all know but don't know how to say. Something when the sun goes out and you feel this way. Wandering eyes hold promise, but those promises are so empty.
He doesn't think. He doesn't care. He sees her as he rides by in a cab and hopes she didn't see. Gone. Heartbreak 1,2,3
Roses, planted from seed, sit on the countertop. Drooping out of the same cheaply bought vase. A note that reads, "Sorry, I was afraid...I love you", is scattered in torn up pieces throughout the apartment. She is there with glassy eyes and huddled up frame. Holding the phone highlighting his name. Going from delete to send message back and forth again.
He doesn't care, he can always wait. He can move on and just say it was fate. In this moment we all fade away.
I loved her. Now I love her pain. I love the dark feeling of regret and isolation that put her in my shoes. I love that feeling sinking in, that even if.............things will never be the same.