Make Me A Mess
Beth sat on her couch and looked at the bruises all over her body, unable to help the smile at the memories. She really needed to learn how to quit him. She sighed and got up, walking to the bedroom and ripping off the sheets, cookie crumbs falling all over the floor. She put the sheets in the wash before she started to pick up the empty bottles around the floor. It never failed, every time he left with a kiss goodbye; he always left her with a mess to clean up. She walked around the apartment and could still smell the cigarettes he smoked, taste the leather from his jacket, worn and broken. She couldn't get him out of her head and as she cleaned up the apartment, tried to clean up her head and her heart, she whispered his name to the empty rooms. Whenever he came around, it was either really early in the morning and he was just leaving a bar, drunk, or late at night, just getting out of work and lonely. She honestly didn't care how she got him, as long as she got him at all. The kind of love they had was the kind that left her sore the next day and kept her wanting more, craving more. He always made a mess of her when he came around.
Her phone started to ring and she picked it up, looking at the name and smiling. "Hey you," she answered. He'd only been gone for a few hours and hearing his voice on the other end made the cigarettes and leather more prominent on her senses. If Daryl wanted to come around she'd wait around all day. When he showed up she walked over and kissed him. He pressed her against the wall, ripping her dress, making a mess of her. Beth didn't care, she'd never get enough of him.