and the morning }} poppy x justice blitz
Jul 1, 2018 18:09:18 GMT -5
Post by arx. on Jul 1, 2018 18:09:18 GMT -5
JUSTICE
FRAY
FRAY
"It's not about me!"
Sudden and broken. It makes my eyes snap to her. She won't look at me and somehow I think that's for the better. I can always see my own reflection when her eyes are glassed over. I never like what I see. It scares me every single time.
"You think I wanted this? You think I wanted any of this?"
Hand on my chest and I'm ready to crumble. Just a little bit more force behind her touch and I know I'd topple. Only hours ago I was dreaming of that hand gliding over my skin, those eyes blinking slowly at me. Everything hurts. Her words—"I'm just trying to do what's best for them. What's best for you."—her touch. How could something so gentle deliver such a crushing blow? Make my ribs crack and my lungs struggle for air? Send my heart plummeting into oblivion?
I laugh. It's broken. I'd wanted it to sound exasperated, but it's hardly more than a single gasp of air. She has to know right? She must. Me and them, them and me—we don't go together and we never will. What's best for them will never be what's best for me. What's best for me will never be what's best for them. We don't go together.
And in the battle of me versus them? I'll lose every time.
"Last night was what I wanted."
Not me. Not them.
Her.
I've always been selfish.
"So why don't you just tell me what you want and that's what I'll do."
So when she presses her forehead against my shoulder, I pull her closer. I breathe in her hair, close my eyes, tangle my fingers within her shirt because it's what I want. But-
"If last night's really what you wanted," I pause, my heart pounding because all I want to do is finish the thought with-
Leave them. Be with me.
But I won't say that. That's what I want. That's not what she wants. That's not what's best for them. That's only my right answer.
And in the battle of me versus her? I'll make sure I lose every time. I'll make sure to fall on my sword before she can fall on hers.
"Who says you can't have another night?" I say, forcing a smile and pulling her face into my palms.
"Come to dinner with me tonight," I grin.
"Go dancing with me tomorrow," I sway.
"Help me cut my hair the night after that, wine tasting, midnight walks, shitty karaoke, read me to sleep," I breathe, torn up bits of paper beneath my feet crinkling and burning, but I don't know how to extinguish the flames.
"Next week we can stay up all night stargazing, watch the sunrise," I stroke her cheek, swallow back those poisoning words that would be best for me.
I hope I'm picking the right one's for her.
"Whatever you want," I lie.
"That'll be good for me."
Sudden and broken. It makes my eyes snap to her. She won't look at me and somehow I think that's for the better. I can always see my own reflection when her eyes are glassed over. I never like what I see. It scares me every single time.
"You think I wanted this? You think I wanted any of this?"
Hand on my chest and I'm ready to crumble. Just a little bit more force behind her touch and I know I'd topple. Only hours ago I was dreaming of that hand gliding over my skin, those eyes blinking slowly at me. Everything hurts. Her words—"I'm just trying to do what's best for them. What's best for you."—her touch. How could something so gentle deliver such a crushing blow? Make my ribs crack and my lungs struggle for air? Send my heart plummeting into oblivion?
I laugh. It's broken. I'd wanted it to sound exasperated, but it's hardly more than a single gasp of air. She has to know right? She must. Me and them, them and me—we don't go together and we never will. What's best for them will never be what's best for me. What's best for me will never be what's best for them. We don't go together.
And in the battle of me versus them? I'll lose every time.
"Last night was what I wanted."
Not me. Not them.
Her.
I've always been selfish.
"So why don't you just tell me what you want and that's what I'll do."
So when she presses her forehead against my shoulder, I pull her closer. I breathe in her hair, close my eyes, tangle my fingers within her shirt because it's what I want. But-
"If last night's really what you wanted," I pause, my heart pounding because all I want to do is finish the thought with-
Leave them. Be with me.
But I won't say that. That's what I want. That's not what she wants. That's not what's best for them. That's only my right answer.
And in the battle of me versus her? I'll make sure I lose every time. I'll make sure to fall on my sword before she can fall on hers.
"Who says you can't have another night?" I say, forcing a smile and pulling her face into my palms.
"Come to dinner with me tonight," I grin.
"Go dancing with me tomorrow," I sway.
"Help me cut my hair the night after that, wine tasting, midnight walks, shitty karaoke, read me to sleep," I breathe, torn up bits of paper beneath my feet crinkling and burning, but I don't know how to extinguish the flames.
"Next week we can stay up all night stargazing, watch the sunrise," I stroke her cheek, swallow back those poisoning words that would be best for me.
I hope I'm picking the right one's for her.
"Whatever you want," I lie.
"That'll be good for me."