when i almost wish i had been 'that chick'

if only it had been...


don't...

my pleas were shriveled whispers of feeble weeping dying on the whine.

don't leave...

i was lying in a puddle of my own pride, wrung from me as i reached from supine position to grab at the shadow of his pant leg.

don't leave me...

sniffles squeezed from my nostrils, yanking at the line of snot sliding towards my upper lip. i continued lying on the floor, my cheek pressed to the carpet, each breath wretched from me in choking gasps, my swollen gaze stitched to the area of his exit.



instead of...

me: "i'm out. left the key to the front door on the kitchen table."

him: "aiight."

me: "bye"

*whew*

i wouldn't feel as though the years with him was an existence void of emotion.