In My Pink High Heels

A Letter to the My Ex's Tree-Hugging, Peace Loving, Communal Fucking Replacement Me.

How do you do it My Dear?

Lie on the bed I've lain, fuck the cock that's been inside me? Eat on the dishes I've washed, Piss near the shower we've made love in?

How do you reconcile your self when you look as the broken glass, the earrings left behind on the window, the cigarettes they haven't thrown away with my lipstick stains?

Did you convince yourself he loves you? and fell out of love with me, over the past week, because you like Sherlock Holmes?

How do you replace me? With his mother, with his sister, the time I've taken to understand their lives, their friends? The effort I put in to allowing them to let me in, let me eat at their table, love me? Do you think you can compete with that? The Christmas's, The Shopping, The discoveries, The Broke Days and the good ones?

How can you look at the gaping hole in his door and not know that only I can talk him on to ledges and talk him off of them?

You think he loves you because he is jealous now, do you think its hot? does it make you wet? He wants to feel something for you Dilumi, he wants feel anything for you, so it will overpower the confusion, anger, hate and love he feels for me.

Do you know that he is a child? My child, to hold, to love, to fall asleep with as he idly runs his fingers over my skin? Do you know his face? The lines, the little bumps and bruises I have watched for years as he has slept?

You in your fucking smugness think that he can stay still, be happy, feel loved, with nothing? A phone call to tell him about your fucking TEDex Phonies and your love for paintball? You think it makes you special? That you care about the world? You think that isn't the only reason he picked you, so he didn't have to see our disappointment if he picked a unintelligent slag?

You think he didn't pick you for the specs, the button nose and smoking habit, you think when closes his eyes, the way you look doesn't makes it easier for him? You honestly think it was you?

He picked easy, he played safe, he walked in to a wall over and over again so he didn't have to feel the hurt of me walking away. He put up his walls over you. You just make living on the other side of me easier.

How are you OK with the fact his status has never changed from 'In a Relationship' from the time he put it up for me, and now it conveniently fits you.

You think I don't know each scar on his body and each scar in his heart, the ones I put there? The ones he grew up with? You think I haven't been there when it mattered, and when his world fell apart?

You think he hasn't become apart of my life, my home? You think he hasn't sat next to my parents at church, played with my dog? Eaten food I've cooked him, walked me to work, cried in my arms, cleaned up my puke, farted and laughed?

You think he will fuck you like he loved me? You think you know what he needs? You think you can take away his guilt, his pleasure of feeling good and feeling so bad about it? Do you think he will cry the fist time he fucks you?

So I'll wait little one, until he is exhausted of trying to find love in you, and he exhausted of the feeling in his chest when he thinks of me, and when he realizes that love, is never safe, is never calm, it never easy. He will realize in our manic, insatiable restlessness, there was true love, in our stupid uncompromising selflessness was a love that would never die, and in our childish, immature debacles, there were two people fighting against the odds just to love. And you Dilumi Dissanayake, will never make him feel like that.

You are just a memory,      
I         am          Infinity.

posted by pINKhIGHhEELS @ 8:59 AM