happy birthday darlin’
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“Margot Tenenbaum.”
I was feeling quite morbid today, a bit Wednesday Adams-esque. Black shoes. Black pants. Black shirt. Black eyes. Black bra. “Dramatic”, as my boyfriend would say. He asked for a quickie, a blow job. A SCREW A BONE A FUCK A SUCK A GROPE A SLAP A SQUEEZE. A hint of sex on the stairs. You never expect him to agree to wear your underwear. You never expect to like it. The pair your mother gave you for christmas. The pair neatly folded in your purse. The carnival cotton candy limpid pink and blue striped panties with baby peach lace trim, while he’s boiling water in the kitchen with the blinds left open.
Black shoes. Black pants. Black shirt. Black eyes. Black bra. Pink satin undies, the kind that cover 103% of your ass and stick out the back of your low rise skinny jeans like a big fucking eighteen year old secret. Pink cashmere socks, thick enough to keep my heels from blistering in my shoes. Thick blood red hair, dirty from too much sleep, bleeding down my back.
home sweet home?
None of this bullshit seems important when someone you know sticks a gun in their mouth. I honor your strength, but I pity your submission. The only thing I have left to prove of your existence, is the picture frame you sent me for christmas. If I had know you were going to take your life six days later, I would not have replaced the picture inside. I hope the bells ring sweet.
