your ex lover is dead,

by Rachel Lynch in


You keep on getting closer, I wish the tide would take me over. Winds wash through the graceful sands, I am blessed in these nightmares and in this life. My days have been filled with wandering darkness and glamor. I spent the last five nights at the Ritz Carlton, where I bathed in water too hot for my skin and starved myself of solid foods, all while alongside lovers long passed. At first we were smiling, I was his little girl, and I was sick. He was gung ho to get me all better. I talked a good game with his arms around my bony shoulders and witty jokes. Eighteen years of a fucked-up child, my wounds are swollen and pulsing to burst.

He stood up from his chair, picked up his cigarettes and walked out. I lay on my bed, looking at my reflection in the night-blackened window. I turned my  face into my pillow, then pulled the pillow over my head. I had just come like this, with a peculiar tendency to self-destruct.