OBSESSIVE

intended

fast forward two more years; now we
were both nineteen. april's suicide
was completely forgotten by most,
apart from her friends, me, and matthew.

and as for you?

you mourned for a week.
and
you were still with him.

and still blanking me from
existence, every glance that broke off
in a split second, splicing my internal
organs and spilling them vulnerably
in front of your feet. you consciously
chose to ignore my suffering. even
after april took her own life.

skye, i never ignored yours.

you were so unfair to me skye.

i could have hated you, i should
have hated you. you were being little more
than a self-absorbed nobody.
but i
was obsessed with you.

absorbed into a psychotic obsession.

no matter how hard i tried,
i still wanted to kiss you, to crash our
lips together in an eternal fusing of
passion and true love. i still needed your
hands slotting in my own.

i still needed to strip you to your
delicate skin, and beautiful bones,
like the pillars holding up holy greek temples.

i still needed to fuck you, relentlessly,
passionately, hard.

your smile was killing me,
because i knew i was no longer
your reason to arrange your
expression into such flattering
features.

hell, your new ensemble of clothes were wounding me,
such pretty clothes worn for the sugared
compliments from matthew's bitter tongue.

two years receiving fleeting glances,
and sour expressions- you really couldn't
forgive me for a profanity?

but... here it comes.

it was midnight, and there was
a distinct unsettled feeling in the
extreme pits of my stomach.

the kind where you know
you're going to run into trouble,
powerless to it
like you are to a hurricane.

i don't really remember why i
was out until midnight. perhaps
an argument with my mother,
or my father about something.

i remember feeling mad, anyway.

and then i was crossing the bridge
that ran over the local railway, the pregnant moon
casting silver slits through navy clouds,
illuminating the parallel train tracks.

perhaps it's a metaphor for me and
you, skye. parallel, never touching.
i wish it wasn't.

that's when i noticed him advancing,
hands in his pockets and shoulder-length
blonde hair, framing a darkened
expression. earphones plugged into
his ears, eyebrows furrowed. anxious
about something. anxious about you,
i very soon came to discover.

perhaps it was a coincidence we
ran into each other.
or maybe it was fate. sweet, beautiful,
fate.

matthew saw me practically
instantly, and he paused. probably
seeing something in my face. probably
feeling the very same disturbance as me in
his churning stomach, his paling complexion.

"hi." he said.

i nod in response. "hey."

"fancy seeing you here."
he says it confidently.
like he anticipated me being here all along.

i study him carefully, trying
to see the undermining, lurking
accusations beyond his statement,
like a sea monster beneath the depths
of an ink black seascape.