With each breath, I am forcing back the thoughts that so desperately wish to escape. Glancing at your fingers, I watch as they slip their way into my own, and I can’t help but wonder when the last time was that you fingered a syringe instead of my hands. I can no longer maintain my façade and can no longer feign belief in your lies. As my mind races with the forever-escalating fear of abandonment, I close my eyes and purse my lips, allowing the tangible reality of this moment take over.
The panic within me is nearly boiling over, and I breathe in deeper. Running my hands along your now naked flesh, my fingertips tracing your protruding veins, I am unable to enjoy the closeness of our bodies. I dig my nails into your back, pressing your chest as tightly as possible into my own, hoping to disguise my soft sobs as the absent-minded moaning I know you seek.
My fears suddenly surface entirely, this boiling-over now unstoppable as I question even the honesty of your actions within this moment. My heart weighs heavy as I become uncertain of the look in your eyes, staring down at my own with each and every thrust; is it contentment with me or a simple pleasure from your high?
Tears finally burst free and the moment between us is ruined. With you able to rise from beside me so much sooner than you should have expected, I wonder how soon you’ll need another fix. I stare into your now wide, cognizant eyes, and I wait for you to make a decision; I wait for you to choose your drugs over me – over love.
Rising from the bed, you redress and light a cigarette, leaving me with nothing more than a half-smile and a kiss upon my forehead. Watching the cigarette slowly burn down with each and every puff of smoke you release from your lungs, I wonder what my next move is. As I lay within the walls of your apartment, I continue to wait for abandonment. Finally reaching the filter, you stomp out the embers at the end of the cigarette and slip into the bathroom.
Locking the door behind you, I can only hear what the silence of the apartment allows. I remain still, focusing on the rummaging through drawers, the sliding of items on medicine cabinet shelves, all leading up to dead silence and the unknown from within the four walls you have enclosed yourself in. Suddenly my fear of abandonment begins to dissipate as I realize the unrealistic belief that you were ever mine in the first place; it has always been heroin, not I, that holds entire possession of your hands, your mind, your heart.
chasing clarity 