cretinfamily

she takes a drink and then another. she feels the warmth slip over her like a blanket that has been laying in the sun.
her thoughts start to drift backwards in time. visions of booze and rain and intertwined bodies fill her like a cup
overflowing.
her breathing grows heavy as the thoughts grow thicker like cement being poured over her.
she remembers the hands that groped her shoulders and breast. she remembers the secrets
that she told laying naked in his arms...letting her soul lay as bare as her flesh.
she tries to remember the innocence that she once kept inside. the innocence he saw the first time
he glimpsed at her full lips and dark eyes.....and she takes another drink.
one time she thought of passion and love and dreams unfolding all together.
now she realizes you are only allowed one of the three.
how do you chose?
sacrificing passion for love and losing your dreams or sacrificing love for passion and still losing your dreams.
so her dreams are lost in one of these.
she knows that now and she takes another drink.
dancing now in the soft light hanging from her ceiling. doing the steps alone that she used to do with him. falling on the floor with no arms to help her up in her drunken state.
her voice is deep and filled with sarcasm as she gives a toast to all of her memories and she takes a final drink.

he finds her there on the floor curled up like a baby with a drink tipped over in her hand. he moves the drink and brushes the hair off her pale face and kisses her forehead.
picks her up in his arms and lays her on their bed. turns the light off and lays down beside her softly.
he still smells like his other lover and her taste is still on his lips as he lights a cigarette in the dark and tries to
grab onto the past and the stranger next to him. the innocence that she once kept. her dark eyes that fell
to the floor when he would gaze over her soft curves. her full lips that would pout when he told her goodnight.
their life together seemed to take on a basic rhythm, the one that overtakes us all at some point. the late night conversations stopped and the glasses of booze filled up more.
she pushed him away and pulled another close.
he saw the innocence in her eyes being swallowed by shame.
he first took a lover out of revenge.
revenge came and went and now it was out of pure lust.
lusting after what he once had.
lusting after the girl he once knew.
so he snipes his smoke on the window sill and sighs, closes his eyes and drifts to sleep as his mind tells him a story
of passion and love and dreams unfolding all at once.
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"We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospection."

-Anais Nin


"Were creators by permission, by grace as it were. No one creates alone, of and by himself. An artist is an instrument that registers something already existent, something which belongs to the whole world,
and which, if he is an artist, he is compelled to give back to the world."

-Henry Miller
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house of ruth