Misguided Ghosts

There is nothing more twisted than seeing pure perfection walk right up to you, smile, and then kiss another person. Self-imposed torture, heartache in a different light, danger cut right across your eyes flown to your brain and straight down to the center of your heart.

She kisses her and I feel my heart crumble and be blown away by the wind, again. It doesn't even have to crack, it just…falls apart.

"Ashley." She says my name. I force my eyes to look at her blue ones, to make my lips tilt up as far as they can go in this one moment and smile at her. "You're so quiet tonight."

I can hear her just fine over the pulsating music, speaking people, sloshing drinks, and squeaky chairs and tables. Her voice floats, and I hate it. "Just a little tired." I give her that smile that tells her it's alright, nothing to worry about. Nothing to ever worry about.

Later I stand outside of the place we're in. The club, the bar, the restaurant, the clothing store, the bathroom, the kitchen. It doesn't matter where. It's always the same.

But the night air is cooling me down, my body is overheated. Long forgotten tears and fits of anger and breathless bouts of love confessions. I lean my head against the cool bricks of the building, squeeze my fingers together so tight they might crack and let them slowly loosen. I see her standing by my side although I do not remember opening my eyes.

And she's looking at me differently, her eyes blink slowly.

"What's up?" I ask her the questions this time. Where's your girl, is on the tip of my tongue, but I can't force it out of my mouth. I feel ashamed. Be bold for once. But I can't.

Her eyes stay focused on me, she opens her mouth a little bit, then she closes it. I hear air come out of her nose. "Have you always been this sad?"

I am taken aback, I feel the pitter-pattering in my heart start to speed up. I feel hot. Simmering. "What…do you mean?"

And then she blinks and something happens, something breaks. Like, she realizes this moment has gotten way too heavy for the outside of a bar, club, library, kitchen, room, bathroom. Wherever. She wrings her hands together. I expect her to drop the subject, to smile at me, maybe chuckle a little bit. Oh, that laugh that I so desperately love to pieces, want to bottle in a jar and open the lid just a tiny bit whenever I'm feeling sad or upset or, anxious. "Are you sad?"

So simple. Are you sad?

"Yes," I tell her, the truth. It's the fucking truth.

She pauses before asking another question. The obvious question. "Why?"

My brown eyes, I only know they're brown because I've seen them in a mirror before, look her over. Her forehead is crinkled and I'm thinking, give up the act, Spence, you can't be that oblivious. You and I both know we are, have been, will always be, playing this game. Chicken.

"Because, I, you. It's always. I just want." I can't finish any of those sentences. "Because…you're killing me."

And her hand immediately goes to her heart, like she's about to stand in the classroom and mumble the pledge of allegiance at eight o'clock in the morning. Her head turns to the side and her eyes close for a brief moment. In this stance, she takes a step closer to me, to me against the brick wall. How she knows the perfect distance is beyond my understanding. That is one thing I will never know. Can only speculate.

She is so close to me now I can see her eyelashes while her blue eyes are sill blocked by her eyelids. I can feel the traces of her breath on my face and then she opens her eyes, watches me. Looks at my face, my eyebrows, my nose, my mouth, my eyes, my mouth, my lips. She's going to kiss me.

Her nose comes into contact with my cheek and I feel my body shudder. Sure, I've been this close to her before, but this is obviously and monumentally different. Then her lips meet mine and my whole entire being is paralyzed.

I had imagined this moment many times before, my hands coming out to hold her hips, my head turning to get better, deeper access. Pulling her towards me. The whole fucking shebang and all I can do now is keep still as I try desperately to breathe without letting her lips slip away from mine.

"I never meant to," she whispers.

Her eyes meet mine, and then she's gone, walking back inside. And my mind is screaming, don't leave, please, please, don't leave me.

But, like usual, I don't say it.

Misguided Ghosts - Paramore

El Fin.