prose: until there's nothing left

December 18, 2018

 

love wasn’t a word they used with each other, but it was something she was sure she felt. always keeping a level temper, attempting to be the most agreeable woman. during each video call they had she’d give herself that look of effortless glow. perfection.

 

and for all the nights she waited up for his call — when he claimed he was too tired just after sunset — she chose to never question. but if she worked late or was not beckoning his attention then her behavior to him was nothing short of suspicious. a liar, a cheater. “i know you’ve got someone else there,” he’d project. his projections always felt maddening in her mind, but she maintained ever calm— for to react any other way would be unbecoming of her.

 

and the ride he took her on was a wild one for the brief stint time with him — many break ups quickly followed by makeups. All in hopes that she’d over react and show her reliance on him. but she was playing the game wrong. She didn’t beg him to stay. she instead insisted she’d rather him be happy. not something he thought of for himself. He depended on her dependence, and still no matter how much she wanted him… she was still too independent.

 

still he drained her spirit with many recalls of memories that they hadn’t shared and the casual slip up of a name not her own. All in all, she continued to hang on. and she hung there until he grew restless of his own game. because he had drained her well — took every drop. and with her or without, for him all that mattered was what he could take for his own to remain full.

 

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