The Fairytale

I hang up the phone ushering another month of silence. Still seething I walk to the kitchen to pour out another drink. The near empty bottle screams accusations of alcoholism on ears too numb to notice. All the same, I can barely feel the words you said anymore, and a couple more drinks will ensure that they're all but forgotten.

So this is where we've come after all these years. Promises buried in a past that neither of us remember much of anymore. Everything was so much simpler then, you were so much closer, promises were easier to make, and tomorrow stayed far enough away to secure a hope that could have lasted forever.

And love was more than just a pacifier.

I stumbled my way up the stairs and to the bathroom. In the faint glow of the night-light I faced the mirror once more, staring into the pair of eyes so empty. And I wondered if you see the same thing that I saw. Do you see the scars embedded into the cold and uncaring face? Do you see the brow creased in intense hatred? Do you see the fears hidden behind a mask of apathy? Am I as ugly to you?

Still, despite all your adorations, why do I feel nothing but resentment? We assure each other that things will work out, that we'll give it another go once a better time comes around. You hang on to me even as you push me away. Don't tell me that you love me as you run as far from me as you can get. Don't tell me that you'll be back, even as you waste another night in the bed of someone else. You think I'm still going to be here to put you back together when you fall apart. You think that the more bruised, beat up, and thrown aside you become, the more I will be able to heal you; that your prince charming will always be nearby to rescue you if things get too bad. But you will find no happily-ever-after here, and I'm sick of being your fucking fairytale.

_________

really feeling so down. Argh!