Bad Bonds

What does it feel like to be wrong? 

There’s a specific memory in my mind: I’m wearing my blue dress (with the buttons down the back and the chain you gave me), and I see you breathe from a mile away. You’ve got on your tennis shoes you’ve worn since – I don’t know – before we kissed, and I think it’s funny you wore sneakers with a dress shirt. I’m not laughing though, and she’s got a grip so tight on your arm that if we shared a smile, your veins might burst inside your very sleeve.

Suddenly I breathe, too, and it’s a loud and loathsome sigh as you pass. You stare at me, and my fear succumbs to scarlet blush. Aching rubs in all the painful parts once again, and it’s more of an oozing and bloody gash than a sore muscle (but you know I’d never complain). 

That’s what it feels like to be wrong. 

Advertisements

One thought on “Bad Bonds

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s