Her Words

Her words bring up parts of me: about seeing and being seen. Forever my dreams are secrets.

Forever I kept them hidden. Yet I still want recognition. It’s taken all this time to notice that.

I taught a friend today about embracing this “other” part of me - a part that bittered- I don’t quite know how to treat her.

She “pulls up shop” like a bad stripper, carelessly sat astride a chair she’s turned around backwards: swagger. She’s bitter and her mouth pulls up into a slight snarl of “why me” and “get lost” and “this is how I wanna do it!”

I was curious to meet her - of all my emotions, I had not quite found a name for her. She used to throw mud into my heart slyly before now. She’d be the slick, dark oil of jealousy when I felt alone. Her sting was coy and cunning.

Now she’s full-frontal. Bare-breasted. Unabashed. I did not shun her from my table, in fact I pulled up that chair. I was curious to meet this woman of rage and anger who had not made herself known to me before.

She’s dirty, grimy, unwashed. Her roots grow through and her lipstick hugs the dryer outer rim of her lips, the centre almost faded in its 11th hour. It does not stop the grin sat comfortably on her face. She is smug. She knew this would happen. She knew everyone would leave and it would just be me ‘n’ her. She told me so. She said: "I warned you".

She sighs and takes another drag of her cigarette. Neither of us mind, really. This was always the way it was gunna be. We have all the time in the world to watch the smoke unfurl - up to the ceiling in languid loops.

She always knew, and the only part that made her angry was the shedding. The shedding of delusion that it would be any other way.

So we sit in silent company, her always with that twisted grin - almost biting at her lips. And I, simply in awe that this part of me had the rules to the game all along. Was waiting in the wings all along.

Embittered.

-19.04.21