Made up Reality
Most nights he visits her while she is asleep. He appears in many forms. The images change, but the outcome mostly remains the same.
They are in high school together, they hold hands at the back of the class, giggling as the teacher snaps at them to stop talking. Later, she cuts class to look for him in the courtyard and he is leaning casually against another girl. She is busty, her face is thick with makeup. She regards her with a derisive sneer, and she shames at what she is, just a little schoolgirl with her fresh, naive face. She calls to him, demands that he come back with her. He refuses point blank, he tells her to run along and he will join her later. Her heart breaks.
She is snap crackle and popping gum, backstage at some rock show. He is lolling around as well, they are indifferent but aware of each other. She watches in jealousy as he chats up a girl, lithe and tall, hips that are perfect for placing hands on. The girl leaves eventually, she doesn't feel any better. And he walks up to her, pulls her into a room. He murmurs his lust, she isn't sure if they were directed at her, rather than deflected from the lithe girl. She doesn't protest, though she doesn't accept. She lays back indifferently, as his hands run down her own hips, lips in her hair, she lets it happen.
She is coming back home to the apartment they own, she sees him in their bed, wrestling with a girl that has her own name. Is it cheating if they are named the same? She isn't sure. The girl laughs casually and he feigns innocence, as if they could really be mixed up. She invites them into the bed, the stranger or is she the stranger? Again, she feels nothing.
Her mother is coming to visit! She has to run downstairs to her basement apartment to clean up, to get him out of there, because she doesn't want her mother to find out. As her mother takes the elevator down, she runs down the stairs, hoping to beat her. She rushes into her room, into her bedroom, and yes, he is there. She is about to warn him, when she notices the other girl. The girl with long, black hair, sensual lips, who regards her with slight embarassment as she shimmies into her blue jeans, that were rumpled on the ground, peeled off her in haste in a tangle of arms and skin. She doesn't need to say anything. Her mother arrives. All she feels now is relief, that at least her mother wouldn't think she was sleeping around.
She understands what it means but she refuses to confront it. She will keep her eyes shut, and let the dreams fade away with the day. Dreams are not real. They will pass. She has had better days, better dreams. When everything almost fails, in the end, she knows, that one of them will hold the pieces and stick them back together.
She had traveled back in time to save their relationship. She went back to her birthday, to the day they had fought, and called the past him outside. In the cold, she held his hands tightly, gripped them with a near-desperation and earnestly said, "Don't give up on us, okay?" Her tears were shining as if they were real.
They are in high school together, they hold hands at the back of the class, giggling as the teacher snaps at them to stop talking. Later, she cuts class to look for him in the courtyard and he is leaning casually against another girl. She is busty, her face is thick with makeup. She regards her with a derisive sneer, and she shames at what she is, just a little schoolgirl with her fresh, naive face. She calls to him, demands that he come back with her. He refuses point blank, he tells her to run along and he will join her later. Her heart breaks.
She is snap crackle and popping gum, backstage at some rock show. He is lolling around as well, they are indifferent but aware of each other. She watches in jealousy as he chats up a girl, lithe and tall, hips that are perfect for placing hands on. The girl leaves eventually, she doesn't feel any better. And he walks up to her, pulls her into a room. He murmurs his lust, she isn't sure if they were directed at her, rather than deflected from the lithe girl. She doesn't protest, though she doesn't accept. She lays back indifferently, as his hands run down her own hips, lips in her hair, she lets it happen.
She is coming back home to the apartment they own, she sees him in their bed, wrestling with a girl that has her own name. Is it cheating if they are named the same? She isn't sure. The girl laughs casually and he feigns innocence, as if they could really be mixed up. She invites them into the bed, the stranger or is she the stranger? Again, she feels nothing.
Her mother is coming to visit! She has to run downstairs to her basement apartment to clean up, to get him out of there, because she doesn't want her mother to find out. As her mother takes the elevator down, she runs down the stairs, hoping to beat her. She rushes into her room, into her bedroom, and yes, he is there. She is about to warn him, when she notices the other girl. The girl with long, black hair, sensual lips, who regards her with slight embarassment as she shimmies into her blue jeans, that were rumpled on the ground, peeled off her in haste in a tangle of arms and skin. She doesn't need to say anything. Her mother arrives. All she feels now is relief, that at least her mother wouldn't think she was sleeping around.
She understands what it means but she refuses to confront it. She will keep her eyes shut, and let the dreams fade away with the day. Dreams are not real. They will pass. She has had better days, better dreams. When everything almost fails, in the end, she knows, that one of them will hold the pieces and stick them back together.
She had traveled back in time to save their relationship. She went back to her birthday, to the day they had fought, and called the past him outside. In the cold, she held his hands tightly, gripped them with a near-desperation and earnestly said, "Don't give up on us, okay?" Her tears were shining as if they were real.
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