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As She waits at the bus stop, a young man approaches her
“Do you have the time ma’am? ”
She ignores him and looks straight ahead, because if She speaks She won’t be able to hold it in
“Ma’am? ”
He steps directly in front of her, and before She can stop herself, She has her eyes trained on his
Everything about them is familiar
She can even see the small streaks of blue in the hazel that had made her feel safe with him so many years ago
And as He looks at her now, with deep concern in his eyes, She can pretend that He is the same as before
Like how his nose would crinkle when She cried because He hated it when She wasn't happy
And in the 8 seconds that have just passed She can see the realization of who She is flicker across his dilated pupils
She needs to ask ‘why? ’
She wants to be angry
But all She does is take out her phone and say “Half past twelve”
And He can’t even look at her as he mumbles “Thank you” and asks for a dollar
And when He asks for that dollar, something inside of her shatters, and then ignites a flame
Of all the things to say
Of all the things to ask
Of all the things to apologize for…
But She can’t waste this moment being angry with him
So She pulls out a twenty with a shaking hand
But as She goes to place it in his, his fingers intertwine with hers and She looks up just in time to be trapped in his gaze
Trapped in his gaze that whispers soft ‘I love you’’s and sincere apologies
And it is in this moment that He says “Thank you” and She knows that it isn’t just for the money
Suddenly She is wrapped in memories of them, and how they were before He sold his soul to the streets
They stand like this, just staring at one another for a moment, and then the bus pulls up and He releases her
He plants a butterfly kiss on her forehead and leaves, for what feels like the thousandth time
And for what feels like the thousandth time, She wants to tell him how much She misses him
She wants to tell him how much the little girl in her longs for his comforting touch
She wants to tell him how much his absence has changed their mother
She wants to tell him that no matter how high He gets, He still won’t make it to heaven
But She just gets on the bus, and lets the pain run down her cheeks, into her lap, and back into her skin
And She waits for the day when She is waiting at the bus stop when a young man approaches her
“Do you have the time ma’am? ”
She never did see him again.
"She is the souvenir shop that He visits to remember how much people will miss him when He's gone."
She cries so often that She runs out of tears and the sobs escape her in the form of red disappointment that streams from her tiny little-girl wrists. She is the nothing but a landmark. She is the band-aid that He uses to feel beautiful after He is told that He is not. She is the thread that holds his ego together at the expense of her own. And every time She undresses for him, She knows that He is thinking of you. Because, when they're in bed, He's touching her, wishing She was you, and She's touching him wishing He was anyone else. And they're both just anesthetics to fill each other up with a feeling of nothing because somehow, that's better than any type of something. And He never says "I love you" in person, because She knows that He only loves her from shoulders to ankles, no hair in between, ditch the bra and *******, let that Brazilian fall in waves down her chocolate back as She gives him more and more of herself. But then He does say "I love you" it's only when He's still inside her; still a part of her; still taking from her. He'll say he loves her. He'll say it again and again and again. Like a prayer. Like a lamentation. And as He finishes for what was supposed to be the final time, She'll fall apart. Glass trinkets will fall to the floor, tumbling from the decrepit shelves of her heart and shatter all around them for his love of broken things. Like her. And He'll leave.
The truth?
The truth is that he was only beautiful when he was on drugs
So, he was almost always beautiful
No
He was almost always gorgeous
But it didn't matter.
He'd never get high enough to touch heaven
The holes he poked in his arms wouldn't fill the hole in his life
Nothing he could ever say would un-cry my tears, un-shoot those bullets, or un-break our hearts
Running away wouldn't make that one life-ruining ***** cell do a backstroke
He was beautiful when he was on drugs
But he wasn't on drugs when that little stick turned pink
He wasn't on drugs when I walked in and out of that clinic alone
He wasn't on drugs when I had to sit down and tell his parents and mine that there was no more "baby"
No
He wasn't on drugs
​He just wasn't there.
Mommy, can you hear me?
You were only 13, miles from 14
Just a child
You didn't understand what it all meant
Only that you wanted him to stay
So many people had already left you and you just couldn't take it anymore
He was 16, almost 17
Basically a grown man
Mommy, are you listening?
You only wanted him to stay
That's all you ever wanted
So you gave him what he wanted and spread those long, pretty legs
Because he called you beautiful in between kisses and said that he loved you when you needed to hear it
And he even said that he loved you  when you begged him to stop
He whispered I love you and just kept on going
Then he finished
He flipped you over and passed you to two of his friends
Your face was still wet with tears as the first one pulled out his ***** like a sweaty dollar bill
But they never saw your face
The pain in your eyes
The sadness in the set of your mouth
Mommy, I know you can't hear me
We were both babies and you were just protecting me in the only way you knew how
Mommy, I wish you could hear me
It's okay.

— The End —