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Missa Defunctorum
praise the lost souls, it'll set yours free
Moments in Love
I think I only felt genuine love as my life fell apart, trying not to let the procedure from two days ago rape my mind the way my doctor's blade searched for a sack of embryos I had grown to love so deeply. We knew what we were doing was wrong, but we couldn't resist the temptation to feel one another's skin after having our hearts ripped in two. Does that afternoon haunt you too?

Your rough hands felt strangely smooth as you held me, your kisses were so soft, as if you were afraid the pressure would make me crumble. You constantly looked at me, worried that you would do the wrong thing.

In that moment, I knew you loved me more deeply than anyone else had ever tried to. As you made thousands of promises I believe you had every intention of keeping, of families, pets, traveling the world side by side. You looked into my eyes, willing to see the demon that wanted so badly to eat me alive. You were willing to fight that monster, so long as I would fight to.

I don't want you back. You fought valiantly in that time frame, and I appreciate that. But no man can fight two monsters at once, and no person can fight those monsters on their own. We were in a Catch 22.

I never told you about Nicholas. I was so terrified that you'd blame me for being an idiot, for being the girl that needed to let go of herself and her terrible life for just one night. I wouldn't blame you if you felt like I cheated on you, because I went to that bar with every intention of flirting with some stranger and letting him take me to a fantasy world until that little hole in the wall closed.

But I never went with the intentions of lending my body to anyone, regardless of how badly I wanted to put March, April, May, and June behind me. I just wanted to pretend my life was somewhat normal, after too long of feeling like I was drowning.

And I never lent my body to him. He felt I owed him for the conversation. He felt I owed him for the drink he bought me. He felt I owed him so much, and I knew I didn't, and I tried to say no. But he didn't care.

Honestly though, I don't know, did I even put up that much of a fight? I pushed him off of me a few times, told him no. I reached for my pants but he grabbed my hands and pushed my face against the wall.

I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I told him no. I said I didn't like it. I told him I didn't want this.

But he didn't care. He got what he wanted. And just like that, I drove home, unsure of how to take in what I had been force fed. Unsure of how to comprehend anything.

The only thing that swirled into my mind was that if I told you, that night in that hotel room would never happen again. So I held it in.

And I tried to fight the monsters, the loss of our child and the loss of hopefulness, all on my own. When you looked into my eyes, I imagine you found black holes, begging to suck you into their vortex and eat you alive.

There was nothing you could do, and I made that decision. As much as I want to blame you, I'm the one at fault for how things ended.

Sorry I couldn't satisfy you. I couldn't satisfy myself.

The only person satisfied was Nicholas.

Even now, I don't want you back, and I don't want to tell you all of this. It's been almost four months since we broke up. I don't want you. I just want that feeling in that hotel room, that tenderness, that sincerity. I just want to feel that love again, from anyone.

My life has felt like the winter for nearly nine months now.





 
 
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