Tequila & Marshmallows

January 4, 2018
When he leaves,
I will cry for 10 minutes and proceed to bottle up all the pain I have yet to feel.
I will mix it with tequila and pour into shot glasses and pretend I’m at an empty bar and all the drinks are on the house.
While I drink,
There will be a burning sensation in my throat
But they cannot compare the to screams being held inside the closed doors of my chest.

When he leaves,
I will feel my heart shatter and my body become empty, as if someone had poured out all the “me” there was because it had expired.
Yet, I will smile with my crooked, coffee-stained teeth, and search for every piece I’ve planted in others in hopes of an evolution in me.
Why does he deserve to know that he had completely destroyed me ?
The answer is clear, he doesn't.
He will only feel the sting of seeing me shine when I’m recreated.
And he will know he can no longer touch, I am no longer his.

When he leaves,
He will take the all words I have tried to say and write and he will light them on fire.
I will feel the third-degree burns on my lips and hands, as all my words burn.
Yet I will look him in the eye and roast marshmallows over that fire.
I will lick the residue off my burned fingertips and lick my swelling lips in delight.
I will not satisfy his hunger to see me in pain.
Yet I will satisfy my need to see his enragement at his failure.
He will not win any longer.

When he leaves,
I will not crumble.
I will still wake up,
And I will still breathe.

When he leaves,
I will survive.

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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

stephcisneroz said...
today at 6:14 pm
Your talent is amazing. It's hard to believe such creativity comes from someone still in her teens. Keep that fire you are truly blessed with the gift of an artist!
may. said...
today at 5:46 pm
this is amazing
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