Twenty to nine.
She haunts every single one of my thoughts, relentlessly, she won’t give me peace. Whether I close my eyes or glare into the distance she appears. And stays. Staring at me, taunting me.
She dances and cuts through me. Dragging him along with a sickening twisted smile,
Twenty to nine.
I’m still waiting for the man who never came up our aisle. The knots and sickening sinking feeling has never subsided, he never came. I’ve been left, wanton. At twenty to 9….
Waiting.
I have no concept of months of the year, or days of the week.
He must have been with her for months whilst with me. I’d shared him unknowingly. When complaining of a headache and excusing himself he would have slunk away to bed her. I can remember the foreign smell that lingered around his neck, as I gently tried to kiss him. The stench of her. Overpowering me.
The parts of him I touched and caressed were tainted with her. It was all stained
Her fingers still drag along my wedding table and all that I’ve kept so careful in this room. her mark is everywhere, she suffocates all of it. The room is heavy with her stench of perfume.
Her claws tap. And tap. And tap.
Characteristics:
Flowing dress, that sweeps over everything
Intensely staring
Distanced. Fleeting
Going behind, turning a corner, a glimpse of red- of her
Watching from afar
By herself.
Angular, fingers tapping on table.
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