Ashes

The ashes are still fresh. There’s a cigarette that’s barely lit, smoke gracefully flowing through the air. My heart tells me you stayed. But, my mind knows better. I roll over, and all I see is your indent. The place where your body once was.

You left not too long ago.

I can’t help ┬ábut clutch your pillow, the smell of you is still there. It’s intoxicating, it’s nauseating. The sheets are a tangled mess among me, and so are my emotions. You have me and my body wrapped around your finger. You have a piece of my heart. You have left an imprint on my soul. My mind wanders back to last night as the warm tears stream down my eyes.

The way your fingers glided across me felt like electricity. The glisten in your eyes gave me a high. The way you spoke to me made my skin shiver. You have me mesmorized. You have my every move calculated.

The morning after leaves me bitter. That joyous ecstasy is gone. The high is no more. The crash is unbearable. The hurt has rattled me to my bones. Every being of me is in unbearable pain.

I stumble to the bathroom, utterly terrified to look at my reflection. The harsh, artificial light paints a horrible picture all over my face. I am disgusted with myself. How could I let you do this to me again? How could I believe all of those hollow words all over? The girl looking back at me is disappointed. I repeatedly get my heart ripped out by you like clockwork. It’s a never ending cycle of joy and pain. I love you, I do. But I also despise you.

I try to get myself together for the day ahead of me. I clean up the running, black mascara. My cheeks are puffy, and red from the leftover blush. My lipstick is long gone. I fix my matted afro just as the phone rings.

It’s you again.

Asking if I want a repeat of last night. You say you enjoyed yourself. The words that come out of your mouth sound like a beautiful poem. They are a melody. They ring throughout my ear and bounce around in my mind. An excitement comes over me. My mind tells me no, but I hear myself say yes.

I know I will regret this. It’ll be another morning of tears, anger, and regret.

But, there’s something in me that can’t stop making a deal with the devil.

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