Bitch

driving to nyc last night, going down the road that she lives off of
started thinking of her again, looking into car windows to see if she might be
of course she would not be, I know her work hours but kept looking anyway
As we were driving, myself the passenger, we were getting close to her exit
and the thoughts of her were getting stronger, what we did, how we did, when…
I was asked if I was getting hungry, I was so I reached back for the bag
in there were sandwhiches, fruit, chips, etc. So I went to pull out a sandwich
from the bag and whoosh, the damn thing flew right out of my hand and landed
face down on the car floor. I began scrambling to get it cleaned up before the oils
and vinegars seeped into the carpet while driver was all over my ass with what happeneds
I had a flashlight, napkins, and anything else I could find to clean it up while the driver was
hitting me with whats, hows, pull overs, light turn ons, just leave me alone and let me clean
is what I wanted to scream, but I answered all things as nicely as I could, and when I finally
looked up and gave her the sandwich to throw out the window i realized that we were well
past her town and into the next state. Thats when I realized what had happened…
She, the Queen Witch Bitch Fuckin Whore-the former lover whom I have no more, felt my presence coming and threw a “punch” my way to keep me away… whoo boy did it ever work
not that I was going to her but… it was sort of like the flying monkey creatures in the Wizzard of Oz protecting the Wicked Witch of the West. Only now they were protecting the Wicked Queen of Egypt. She won again and I hid my tears in the dark car as we munched on corn Bugles…

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4 responses to “Bitch

  1. Did it really feel like her winning or did it just feel more like losing her all over again?
    Sorry, hard question – I know – but I have asked myself to answer it after reading this.
    It is easy to confuse despair with anger and longing with hate when you want something so much it twists your whole soul into a knotted thread of need and want.
    Did the language help?
    The swearing…
    Does it help to do that?
    I always wonder that – if making the words as ugly as possible…as forbidden and shocking as one can – is that helpful to make you feel better when you hurt?
    Are they somehow sharper or heavier or more lethal?
    I know you don’t want her dead – just that having her alive and no longer loving you is hell.
    I have had it pointed at me – words like I read here – and wanted to cover my head to keep the speaker from hurting me more when I was already bleeding.
    I have been just as harsh myself but always – even as it is flying out of me with tears of anguish and despair it is the exact opposite of what I want and of what I want to say and that has been in every single case, not just one.
    In cases like that I think everyone loses Al – what makes us want to prove we can handle things alone when we know inside that it simply isn’t the truth?
    *thinking now*

    M.L.

  2. No, what it felt like is her throwing a punch threw the window and instead of hitting me in the face she threw my food to the ground and stomping on it so it could not be eaten by any one, and no it was not her protecting me, it was her spiting me.
    Yes, the language does help! I am not trying to kill her, and never would, she tries to do that to herself anyway so why should I help that along. Hey M. L. look, if she were to call my name now, or ten tears from now I would drop everything and go running to her side, and that is what gets me angriest.

    • Ah – then you know – if he called me I would go to him in a heartbeat – on my knees if he wanted it but he would never want that, only that I would be willing and even grateful for the chance to prove I would.
      It doesn’t make me angry though – not the way you are…

      It makes me feel hollow – like I will never be filled again unless it is with all things him.

      You know I’d defend him with my life – some think not but at least you know it and I understand about her…how it is.
      It fucking hurts – doesn’t it?

      M.L.

      • Yes, I know all too well, however I would hate myself for doing so since I know she never really cared at all and was just using me for whatever she wanted, and I fell for it hook, line, and sinker!

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