Sometimes I think I catch glimpses of you staring at me in the reflection of the rear view mirror. I don’t know how long you’ve been staring, or if it is my imagination of you staring at me. You seem to have found something in me that was there and buried. I Look away as if to shut you out. The corner of my eye still sees you digging. I turn my back to further hide what you are looking for. The chance to save me vanished before we had the opportunity to realize what it was. I’ve changed. I am cold. You are no longer that which calmed me. You are more fire to the touch rather than the serene waters that used to cleanse me of my sinful nature. Now I am tired of you staring. I stare back deep into you. You shed a tear, as if begging me to stop. I can’t. I stare you in the face as I dig up what you were looking for. I pull up a coffin. A dusty, old, ridged coffin. Do you want to see what we buried here?I don’t let you close your eyes to this. Tears ruin your well done makeup. I begin to open it.Please. Don’t. Only it is already open. It is every memory we’ve shared. Contorted. Dried in blood. They’ve been gnawed at by rats. Their is a faint smell of ammonia and bleach. I have a remnent of a smile still left on my face.
Answer the question Anonymous or not.
Oh how I’ve had that last one as a look on my face too many times.
I HAVE AN ARCHIVE?!?!