Concubine

There I was halfway across town, half naked, half walking, half running. Rifling through your neighbors garbage cans trying to find any sort of shoe that would fit. I should have grabbed mine, but these thoughts don't register when you're trying to dodge a large ceramic ashtray and a slew of angry words. Both hit me hard, and did damage on all levels.

It had been raining, so the ashtray, filled with our 5 minute memories and late night smokes, had turned into this liquid-ash sludge. Disgusting, bloody, pissed. "Of course I remember to grab my fucking ciggarettes" I said to myself as I lit one, feeling the unforgiving brick road beneath.

I want to be like the road.. cold, hard, unforgiving, but I know before too long i would be back there, with you whispering all the right words into my ear. Not tonight, no "baby this", "baby that", baby "i'm sorry".. baby FUCK YOU. Tonight I WON'T be like the road, I won't be there for you to walk over, use, and overlook.

I rehash the reasons I left you the first time, and thier correlation to now, and wonder why I darkened your doorstep again. How did I stomach your shit and spit out such forgiving lies? I spent years chasing the beauty you buried so far underneath, but digging that deep left me nothing but calloused hands.

I was intoxicated with the drag and pull of your swaying motions, the quirks, and bitter memories. I wonder who else I would have let perform minor epidermal surgery with my switchblade.. although twisted, not as much as when it was pressed against my neck. That was my favorite shirt, bitch.

I spent the rest of the evening weighing your devils and angels, and god damn it's always such a close fight. Ruthless beauty, paired with disgusting wit, and a smile carved from satan's ivory collection.

Where the fuck is my flask?