Broken Creatures.

I’ve done this too long, felt it all. Now, I feel no more, I no longer care for your games. For a time, I tried to play, but now I care to catch you fall no more. I get what you give, and I slowly tire of this.

Time after time, you brush me off on purpose. I’m done with you tiring of me and tossing me aside, like a used ragdoll. You need to realize how much you have depended ‘us’… To understand, I wasn’t  the only one.

I tell myself, that if I take you once more, touch your satin skin and feel your breath on me for the last time, I’ll get over you… lies.

I hate you, but I’m addicted. The Idea of you is a drug; your scent, sweet-salty skin, glistening eyes and lips pink, swollen from kisses. I have known who you are, and are not- so I just take what I get from you and I’m not embarrassed to be what you want me to be. I will not pretend to have any shame! We did this to ourselves and can’t walk away. The lives destroyed, broken hearts and shattered dreams left in our wake, are ours to bear. We are bonded by guilt, the hate and tears of our victims anchoring us there.

You come to me only when you hate him, tire of him and when your conscience cannot take it, you claim to love him still, blame me for your deceit and tell me it’s my fault! Try to convince yourself that ‘I’ somehow brought you to this point. We both know the truth: You are a wild flower, one when touched, folds into itself..

We shout and fume, you storm off to your love and I to my drugs. I’ve been here before; the empty nights, high-after-high, slowly dying inside. But I move on, everyday gets better and brighter, untill I find you at my step.

You don’t speak, I open the doors… I feel torn ‘Do I let you in?  Forget?’  Look at the broken creature I’ve become.

“Friendzone.” Man After Midnight.

I turn to my bedside-table. My eyes can barely make out the time, 00.09. I groggily drag the ringing phone towards me and squint, trying to read the tag on the glaring screen. Her!

“Hello?”  

“Are you awake?” The familiar voice on the other end asks.

 “Hey, Ssup?”

“Hey, did I wake you?”

“Naah…. don’t fret wssup? ” I lied (men will never tell you that you’re bothering them)

“Just feeling low, wanted to talk to you”

“Sure, what’s wrong? (Cough!)”

“He dumped me….” 

(This is some sort’a test, isn’t it? )

“Ummm. …. Sorry, are you okay? Where are you?”

“Outside some club.. (sniffle!)”

“Do you have a ride home? Want me to come get you?”

“Naah, my girls are taking me home.. (sigh!)”

(Silence)

“I’m  sorry….” 

(silence)

“he doesn’t deserve you. I-”

“I gotta go. Talk later, okay? And thanks for this. Love ya  (hangs up)”

“Damn!”                                                             Why does she do this to me? Why do I do this to myself?’

It’s the dead of night, those lucky amongst us are under their duvets, enjoying the subtle warmth that envelopes in deep slumber. The rest, wide awake, humming to the toads and crickets, staring at walls, raiding fridges and surveying those insta-crushes. 

Ladies and gentlemen, tomorrow, its’ vices and problems are here, or are they todays’?