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She told me everything powerful always remains hidden. I remained silent when she reached across the candle lit counter and exposed her arm past the wrist as she topped off her glass. I showed no emotion as she unintentionally exposed the flesh beneath the sleeve of her knitted second hand sweater. She told me how the pills and the ***** had replaced the priest and the sacrificial wine. I kept my eyes on her drink as the ***** quivered from the surface tension along the rim of the smokey highball glass. She told me she was too fast for love but too afraid to be alone. I took my time with my own bitter drink as she continued on. She said she wanted more sedation and less acceleration. She wanted ice cubes for her drinks that didn't melt so fast. She wanted Winehouse back and for the butterflies to come to her. She wanted to light up the darkness like Goya did. But most of all she wanted everything she wrote down to leave her forever. All I wanted was to help get her through the night. I started by tucking my fighting knife away and by really listening while ignoring the marks on her arm. Those hurtful jagged scars of a Cutter.
0
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 4:46 AM UTC
One Less Painful Night
She told me everything powerful always remains hidden. I remained silent when she reached across the candle lit counter and exposed her arm past the wrist as she topped off her glass. I showed no emotion as she unintentionally exposed the flesh beneath the sleeve of her knitted second hand sweater. She told me how the pills and the ***** had replaced the priest and the sacrificial wine. I kept my eyes on her drink as the ***** quivered from the surface tension along the rim of the smokey highball glass. She told me she was too fast for love but too afraid to be alone. I took my time with my own bitter drink as she continued on. She said she wanted more sedation and less acceleration. She wanted ice cubes for her drinks that didn't melt so fast. She wanted Winehouse back and for the butterflies to come to her. She wanted to light up the darkness like Goya did. But most of all she wanted everything she wrote down to leave her forever. All I wanted was to help get her through the night. I started by tucking my fighting knife away and by really listening while ignoring the marks on her arm. Those hurtful jagged scars of a Cutter.
anthony-b-perales
Written by
anthony-b-perales
American
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 4:46 AM UTC
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