Marta Chausee
How often are my lonely, self-pleasuring nights, lying next to a stone cold partner from outer space, replaced with endless laps of ecstasy? How often do I get second chances at white-hot fire in my loins? How many times in the tedious run of my lifetime does reality exceed expectation?
You told me you would love me forever and then I told you the same.
Remember how hot we were for each other? We ran up phone bills and screwed up everything twice in our lives. In high school, our love remained virgin– we thought we were done. Fifteen years later, that unseen ember, like an electrical fire in a wall, burned through to the top and scorched our lives to ashes.
Work, family, marriage, children, social position all suffered. Was it worth it? Oh yeah, baby.
Remember when you told me you could never live without me? It didn’t matter whether I returned your love or not, ripped out your heart by its roots and stomped on it on my way out the door, you would always love me.
How odd then, that when you saw me the other night, you didn’t even greet me. Instead, you hid behind the smoked glass partition that separates the bar from the restaurant, where my friends and I sat watching crazy Mary with her stuffed animal red and pink hair dance alone to the riffs from a jazz sax.
What happened to that great love of yours? Maybe me ripping your heart out from your chest and stomping on it on my way out the door wasn’t such a good idea after all.
Or, as Tim suggested, you probably gained a shit load of weight.
© 2013 Rind Literary Magazine. All Works © Respective Authors.
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