14

****a jump from the previous post****

1/06/2005

Come here, she said. I need to speak to you, she said. I’m going away, she said. I can’t take it any more.

It was the summer of 14.

I’ve watched this for years, she said. It’s gotten to be too much, she said. I can’t pretend any longer.

And then she walked out on 14.

He lifted a glass and she watched. He crushed my foot and she sighed, he laughed at my pain and she shrugged.

Then turned her back on 14.

Is it something I’ve done, she asked. Is it something I should have done, she pleaded, is it something I can change, she cried.

Into the night of 14.

I have somewhere to go, she said, someone waiting for me, she said, somewhere better than this, she whispered.

As she stepped out of 14.

She doesn’t return my calls, she said, she’s abandoned us all, she charged, she cared only of herself, she realized.

Into the memories of 14.

zss

© 2005 wrosesongs
All Rights Reserved

She Said

1/06/2005

She said: I need to talk about it…I really need to talk about his alcoholism.

She said: What alcoholism? He drinks a little too much that’s all. What’s there to talk about?

zss

© 2005 wrosesongs
All Rights Reserved