The Biggest Mistake
by Zee bo Bee
~because it's the truth, and you know it! ~
by Zee bo Bee
~because it's the truth, and you know it! ~
I read those words you wrote, every single letter on every single line. And I was the worst for it.
You see, although it's been over a year since we last spoke, I have to deal with more than such trivial emotions like jealousy, or envy. It never really ended, you see. Not for me at least and while you left with experiences of a "good time", I was left with an disease that festers, till this very day, inside of my heart.
I am filled with pus, yellow, and thick, and poisonous. Filled so much that it oozes out of every pore in my body, every orifice, and it hurts me more than you can probably imagine...more than I probably let you know.
I taste it in my mouth and it is a horrible bitter taste. The taste that comes with the acknowledgement that I have never, and will never, obtain such devotion and affection from you.
And yet, with your words, you had clearly demonstrated your grief. It had nothing, whatsoever to do with me but I read them, nontheless. You were scorned, tossed aside the way I was so long ago. You wrote, of unreciprocated love, of unreturned devotion and of scorned affection. And I could see that you have become weak and vulnerable. "Good!" I had thought. "Excellent!"
And for the first time, in a very long time, I let your name form itself on my lips, and the taste was sweet. Sweeter, even than those delicious kisses we used to share. It's quite natural really, because no matter what you have been brought up to believe, or no matter what they tell you is "proper", retribution, always offers some semblance of satisfaction.
"It's time," they told me, "to let him go. It's time to move on with your life." But I cannot. "That's becase you don't want to move on enough!" they insist! But it isn't. It is not quite as simple as that. It really isn't.
On the one hand, I would be glad to take you back into my arms, feel your warm, firm body pressed against the length of mine. You would make to kiss me and I would accept, readily and gratefully, and with each kiss, gladly erase all memory of your betrayel.
But on the other hand I'd be holding a knife. The knife which you had driven into my heart so long ago. The knife which has become poisoned, with the very puss that has festered in the cavity you left in my heart. And with it, I would probably kill you.
And because of that, I am trapped.
You see, I can never really possess you, not the way I dream of even now in my sleep. And I most certainly cannot kill you. Not in any sense of the word, because no matter what they say, I cannot imagine a life without you here.
"He was the biggest mistake in your life!" some people would tell me, but they are wrong. All of them.
You were many things to me...but you were most certainly not a mistake.
The biggest mistake I had ever made was wanting something so desperately that I had fallen easily and innocently into its poisonous snare. And now I am trapped in this hovel. Infected and alone and being tormented each waking second by all of that which I had so desperately wanted...
LOVE.
~Love could sneak up on a grown woman and turn her from a sensible creature into something as foolish as a flea that keeps chasing after the same old dog.~ Hoffman, A.
PEACE OUT
You see, although it's been over a year since we last spoke, I have to deal with more than such trivial emotions like jealousy, or envy. It never really ended, you see. Not for me at least and while you left with experiences of a "good time", I was left with an disease that festers, till this very day, inside of my heart.
I am filled with pus, yellow, and thick, and poisonous. Filled so much that it oozes out of every pore in my body, every orifice, and it hurts me more than you can probably imagine...more than I probably let you know.
I taste it in my mouth and it is a horrible bitter taste. The taste that comes with the acknowledgement that I have never, and will never, obtain such devotion and affection from you.
And yet, with your words, you had clearly demonstrated your grief. It had nothing, whatsoever to do with me but I read them, nontheless. You were scorned, tossed aside the way I was so long ago. You wrote, of unreciprocated love, of unreturned devotion and of scorned affection. And I could see that you have become weak and vulnerable. "Good!" I had thought. "Excellent!"
And for the first time, in a very long time, I let your name form itself on my lips, and the taste was sweet. Sweeter, even than those delicious kisses we used to share. It's quite natural really, because no matter what you have been brought up to believe, or no matter what they tell you is "proper", retribution, always offers some semblance of satisfaction.
"It's time," they told me, "to let him go. It's time to move on with your life." But I cannot. "That's becase you don't want to move on enough!" they insist! But it isn't. It is not quite as simple as that. It really isn't.
On the one hand, I would be glad to take you back into my arms, feel your warm, firm body pressed against the length of mine. You would make to kiss me and I would accept, readily and gratefully, and with each kiss, gladly erase all memory of your betrayel.
But on the other hand I'd be holding a knife. The knife which you had driven into my heart so long ago. The knife which has become poisoned, with the very puss that has festered in the cavity you left in my heart. And with it, I would probably kill you.
And because of that, I am trapped.
You see, I can never really possess you, not the way I dream of even now in my sleep. And I most certainly cannot kill you. Not in any sense of the word, because no matter what they say, I cannot imagine a life without you here.
"He was the biggest mistake in your life!" some people would tell me, but they are wrong. All of them.
You were many things to me...but you were most certainly not a mistake.
The biggest mistake I had ever made was wanting something so desperately that I had fallen easily and innocently into its poisonous snare. And now I am trapped in this hovel. Infected and alone and being tormented each waking second by all of that which I had so desperately wanted...
LOVE.
~Love could sneak up on a grown woman and turn her from a sensible creature into something as foolish as a flea that keeps chasing after the same old dog.~ Hoffman, A.
PEACE OUT
