Flowers are suppose to grow in february right? The ones you layed across my pale skin while the IV dripped into my veins, mixing with the bottle of pills i let sink in. I didn’t want to be that mystery that could never be figured out. Love is suppose to be in the air in february right? The love he gave me in the back of that beat up white secluded car i can’t forget. The taste of freshly smoked spice lingered on his lips, this is not what february is suppose to be like. The flowers they gave me with the look of sympathy in their eyes are slowly wilted and now to them i’m something to fix, like that old beat up car. They hope that if they work on me long enough i will be able to run like new again. Breathing heavy in the back of an ambulance that is as red as the river that has staind one too many of my sheets.
7 Months Earlier…….
Her gray eyes stared at me and i wondered how could someone be so empty, it was only once i had seen her give herself to him that i saw the last little bit of herself simply dissipate. He looked at me and all i saw was blue but all he saw was another number to put in his tally board of people he has taken to bed, i wonder is the shape of my body still imprinted into that ***** floor or are the marks still on his body? The day he left the flowers on my dresser dried out and i wonder was it merely lack of imagination that they stopped believing in the infatuation i had felt. The flowers they all gave me with the smiles of not knowing how to react piled up in the corner of my room and now they are all singed from the fire i started on my skin, leaving the trail of kisses like third degree burns where no one could tell that who i was is no longer. August, September, October, is the thing in my belly finally growing or have i killed it with my thoughts? They sent me white tulips for your grave…. too bad i was never able to make it to my own eulogy. November, little movements are no more and that is the day i say you left me to be an angel. February, always back to the same **** month. My mother’s blank stares and venom dripping words* “How dare you, what the hell were you thinking”
Laying there in that hospital bed surrounded by the four white walls, that poked fun at the failing act of trying to take my life. I sat there. One face blurred to the next, her tiny body laid to mine as she begged me in a hush tone to not die, that’s not what big sisters are suppose to teach but in all fourteen years of her life that is all i have taught her how to do. I spent that night alone pondering if i closed my eyes would my lungs stop needing oxygen and would my pathetic life flash abruptly and all i will repeat is “What the hell were you thinking”
That house went up in flames and i am still spitting up ashes, coughing up thorns from all the roses i never got.
**What the hell was i thinking?