HOME | DD

Description
No one saw me come in, no one will see me leave. The air is cold and thin as I quietly close the door behind me, leaving his house to sleep in silence. In the morning, I will be the hazy memory of dreams, gossamer tangled on his eyelashes as if I may never have been there at all. The night is clear and bright and so devastatingly perfect I want to cry, I want to run, I want to be anywhere but here, standing in his driveway while the moon scrutinizes my bare skin, my flushed cheeks.

Falling into my car, it is a glacier, an ice floe and I am a woman out to sea. Something hopes my car won’t start, that I’ll have to go back inside, crawl back into his bed, let his warmth envelop me. But the engine turns over and I’m already gone. There’s never been anything there to stop me when I needed it most.

The roads home are dark and icy but I drive on automatic, slowly rewinding the night, erasing the tapes. The closer you get, the less you see, and he’s blinding me, filling my world with empty promises from which I cannot tear my eyes away, the lights of the semi before it hits you. I’ve always had a taste for the things that destroy me. Now in the silence, I can see his lips form the words “I love you,” soundless and complete, but his eyes don’t connect, like too-full hands groping for a door knob in the dark. But he is a cigarette burning in the night, the pill in my throat, the bottle in my fist. I’ve always loved the things that kill me. So tonight, I will let the semi hit me, I will let the darkness take me because now I can see it, clearer than ever, I really have nothing left to lose.

Description
No one saw me come in, no one will see me leave. The air is cold and thin as I quietly close the door behind me, leaving his house to sleep in silence. In the morning, I will be the hazy memory of dreams, gossamer tangled on his eyelashes as if I may never have been there at all. The night is clear and bright and so devastatingly perfect I want to cry, I want to run, I want to be anywhere but here, standing in his driveway while the moon scrutinizes my bare skin, my flushed cheeks.

Falling into my car, it is a glacier, an ice floe and I am a woman out to sea. Something hopes my car won’t start, that I’ll have to go back inside, crawl back into his bed, let his warmth envelop me. But the engine turns over and I’m already gone. There’s never been anything there to stop me when I needed it most.

The roads home are dark and icy but I drive on automatic, slowly rewinding the night, erasing the tapes. The closer you get, the less you see, and he’s blinding me, filling my world with empty promises from which I cannot tear my eyes away, the lights of the semi before it hits you. I’ve always had a taste for the things that destroy me. Now in the silence, I can see his lips form the words “I love you,” soundless and complete, but his eyes don’t connect, like too-full hands groping for a door knob in the dark. But he is a cigarette burning in the night, the pill in my throat, the bottle in my fist. I’ve always loved the things that kill me. So tonight, I will let the semi hit me, I will let the darkness take me because now I can see it, clearer than ever, I really have nothing left to lose.