We
arrived at his apartment. It was on the
second floor. The apartment building had
a rustic, fire house sort of feel. It
was about four stories high with ruby red brick. The side walk had designated parking spots
for each apartment. He carried my
bags. I only had a carry on. He never did let me do much for myself. When he opened the door the first thing I saw
was the most beautiful apartment in the world.
It was very spacious. The hallway
to the living room had paintings, mirrors, and decorations that all seemed to
flow together like a river of perfect design.
Chris could not have put together this apartment. And he would never hire someone to design. A woman definitely designed this
apartment. Actually, a woman definitely
lived here. There was a purse on the
coffee table. Before I could finish my
thought, a tall slender black woman walked from the kitchen and lit up at the
sight of us two.
I meant it not this way but the tears just flow and my makeup smearing all the more, leaving behind that familiar filthy residue. I may have begun to drive myself away, dragging you down as well. But it's done, I've flipped the switch and now it's dark once more. How painful is the music to my ears, I can't stand to be alone in it, yet here I am again. I pray you fly back and safely and warmly to me, though I fear I've dug the grave too deeply. As the dirt shifts within my soul, I choke on those loving words I'd meant for you. All the fragments of light I see becoming smaller and I wish to be near you in your embrace that might make me feel the warmth I'm missing. And in reality, I doubt I'd breathe another breath without you. So come hither and quickly soothe my dying heart, you are the only cure I know. I cry and cry again, come hither to heal and love me. Come hither and help me dry my tears.
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