I was lying on the floor kicking and screaming-- I thought my tantrum would make him hear me, see me. And it did. He looked at me and saw a girl kicking and screaming. Then he stepped over my writhing self and left me drowning in the sound of my own madness. In the haze of my passion and confusion I acted loudly.
My punishment was not a reprimand or slap on the wrist--Instead of giving me what I wanted, I got nothingness. Silence. Metal bars. He shut me out completely and it made me sick. As if exile wasn't enough I was forced to acknowledge what I have denied for so long. SHE appeared on the other end. Voice. Silence. BANG. Death for me.
She exists. Not only in the confines of a brief story--or imagined realities. She took shape and filled in the blanks. She owns a piece of him as well. I fell apart. Piece by pitifully, shattered piece. He tried to create a portrait of her that was distant enough to pretend. And here I am lusting after him. Essentially waiting my turn.
I feel lost. I want to exists fully in his gaze. Not just a side glance or longing stares.....
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