Disclaimer: I don't own anything. "Chelsea hotel" belongs to Leonard cohen. Please review me, thanks.
And when he told me he told me with a smile, his sad attempt at overcoming obstacles he blames me for. He was so proud of himself that it would have been far too cruel of me to bring him back down to size. He stood there before me, not a new man, just an emasculated version of the old one. I could see the paper cuts all over his hands from the "egg shell" colored invitation as if he'd been trying to twist the meaning out of it, trying to make it evaporate.
I took it graciously as I take everything and wished him health and happiness with his new bride. I've grown up too Sebastian, I take my stabs in the back like a big girl now. He waits like he's expecting a firestorm, but It will never come.
The door clicks and the breath explodes out of my lungs. Utter utter joke! And it's not jealousy it's fact. I hardly even recognize him anymore, a lost puppy looking for an owner. A far cry from the boy he use to be. Tailored suits with a vicious tongue using his best line on a freshly hatched chick, "what's your name? Who's your daddy? Is he rich like me?" he unleashed the demons in my heart. I'd have to stick my entire fist in my mouth at the thought of him, just to ease some of my tension. I'd stick my fist in my mouth and pretend.
Many a night I found myself opting to fuck alone then with others due to the simple fact that they'd ruin everything. Think of his unholy ways as I'd tare new holes in my body because the ones I had were not enough. Stretch everything as far as it could go just to see how quickly it would snap back. He did that to me every night, he'd come in like a thief invading my thoughts. Lock the door so you can take your time. Teach Kathryn a lesson. Take your sins and shove them inside of her. And that's what I'm left with now, the sins that he can't bare.
Tomorrow is the wedding and I'm still here, the ballad of the lonely masturbator. But there is one small but beautiful bit of silver lining, you're here, just like I knew you would be. You're just as pretty as you were the day I met you Sebastian except you look younger then ever. The legendary Chelsea hotel smells like overdoses and has-beens, it smells like you. You wanted to stay in Sid and Nancy's room where he stabbed her to death. I assume your trying to be metaphorical seeing as to how this is the end of a never ending tryst that never evolved past moans and sighs. I do appreciate your flair for dramatics, it will make this night far more memorable if I decide to look back on it.
Looking at him broken and pathetic and he's no longer what I want. He's outgrown me like they all said he would. His eyes are dead to me now; I can no longer find the light that use to guide me home. There's an overwhelming need inside me to make him happy if only for a moment, he can remember that for one night in the Chelsea I made him happy.
I drop to my knees like I have a thousand times before but this time it'll mean something. He cries quietly, thanking me in a whimper.
I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,
you were talking so brave and so sweet,
giving me head on the unmade bed,
while the limousines wait in the street.
Those were the reasons and that was New York,
we were running for the money and the flesh.
And that was called love for the workers in song
probably still is for those of them left.
Ah but you got away, didn't you babe,
you just turned your back on the crowd,
you got away, I never once heard you say,
I need you, I don't need you,
I need you, I don't need you
and all of that jiving around.
He sounds like pounding rain on the concrete. He sounds like a broken heart that's screaming to be put back together. He sounds like he's realized it's over for us forever, we'll never get a chance to live up to our potential. He never thought he could love someone more then he loved me, finding out that he can has torn everything he's ever known.
I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel
you were famous, your heart was a legend.
You told me again you preferred handsome men
but for me you would make an exception.
We sit side by side on the bed for the last time. His head on my shoulder saying he's sorry. And then it's over, an un climactic ending to a story that no one will ever hear. The love that bloomed for year's ends in this hotel room, we still don't know each others bodies, and we still don't know what happened.
I don't mean to suggest that I loved you the best,
I can't keep track of each fallen robin.
I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,
that's all, I don't even think of you that often.