Look at us nowIt doesn't matter that my thighs and arms ache, his fingers dig into my hips as he goes for broke, his teeth denting my skull, hands sliding, slipping. If we're not going for broke we're at least headed for home and abruptly he slows to a crawl and starts to talk. I cry out in protest. No. No no no. I don't want to have a discussion in the middle of this. I was having so much fun. He takes one hand up from where he has me trapped beneath him, tracing my eyelashes.
Are you happy with the way that things
Are going around here?
Are you happy now?
Opened my skin, made a claim of revolution
Then you let yourself back in
Look at us now, are you saddened with the way that
I am carelessly unbound and still happy now
Opened my skin, made a claim of resolution
Then you let yourself right back in
You are such a beautiful thing
When you're helplessly crying your eyes out
And I hope that there's a better man inside of me
But I'm starting to doubt that there is.
Please tell me you'll stop. I don't need that period of my life spilled all over the internet.
I need to work things out.
I'll buy you a notebook to write in. A diary. Something offline. He lets go of my face and kisses up my ear to the top of my head, picking up speed again. Unless you have good things to say too. You never say the good things.
I don't need to work out the good things.
Maybe we could focus on those instead. He isn't listening anymore. He does this. He works out his issues with me in the middle of this, a time when we should be focusing on talking less and there's nothing I can do about it.
I should have known from the first time when he slowed to a crawl, pulled me up into his arms so I was straddling his lap, looked me in the eyes and said, I shouldn't be doing this, you're too young.
It's okay, I said. I want this.
You can't. You don't even know what you're doing. I'm going to hell.
I threw my arms around him anyway and he tightened his hold. If you're going, I'm going with you, Locket.