The moon was full and I didn’t even really acknowledge her. There she was up in the sky bright and beckoning. I really am a piece of shit sometimes. I don’t know what I am doing. I am drowning.
He was there with his soft skin and his voice. We went to a bar and I sucked down too many drinks in a small amount of time trying to find myself. Drowning.
I wanted to dance under the moon and make pledges and burn incense and pound my drum and wail and cry and demand something better for myself. I wanted all the creatures of the forest to come to me and share their wisdom. Instead I opened my legs and moved my body and brought him in. He responded well. We are made for this dance.
I got the fuck out of there in the middle of the night — the fog filling the spaces, mascara caked under my tired eyes. I gripped the wheel a little too tightly and begged — please dont let me hit a deer please, I can’t live with that. But then I saw her — She laid by the side of the road in a pile — the body still warm and steam coming off — blood oozing out and down the street. Someone else has to live with it. Someone else is drowning too. I am so sorry. What is wrong with us. Why can’t people be more careful.
I came home and gathered my stuff and looked up at her, the moon and I said — don’t fucking judge me. I left him there in his bed — I had to go — one foot out the door. Always one foot out the door.
I want things — all the things. I want the love and the companionship and the soft warmth of his body next to me. Yes I want all of that. I just don’t know how to do it without choking.