The Words I Shouldn’t Say (Desculpa*)

Posted On October 17, 2017

You were all that I wanted.

You wanted all that I had.

And you took it. With beautiful blue eyes and a feels-like-home smile, you slyly took every part of me. Selfishly. You wiped me clean and insisted on being given more.

I gave you what I had – the best parts of me, the worst parts of me, the parts that simply didn’t make sense. You received them all, in a lop-sided and slightly broken package, wrapped in freckly arms and sealed with a single-dimpled smile.

You thought I wanted everyone but you, when to me, it was only you. I had never looked into a face and felt so much love, found so much comfort, than when I looked at you.

You need to know this.

I gave you a blank canvas and the most brilliant colour, and you painted the worst picture of me.

I never wanted to lose myself, but you drove me away. With every hand-hold, you intertwined your fingers with mine and released your doubts, your jealous, your insecurities into my veins and used your heart to control the directions of my pulses and ensure I only bled for you.

I begged you to stop.

You never had to do that.

Even before you touched me, you knew that no matter which direction I moved, it was always to you.

I wanted health. I wanted growth. You gave me poison.

I would have chosen you first, every time, every day, always.

You never gave me a chance.

You told me of a life you dreamt of – a life of adventures and waves and all things simple. An eternal roadtrip, just you and I.

You didn’t know that I was already packing my bags, already saying my goodbyes to the life I knew and the world I was about to meet.

I was different.

You made sure I never forgot it.

You said I was special; your forever, dressed in high-waisted jeans and a white t-shirt.

You said I was different, but still the same. I was just another girl seeking attention, affection, false perfection.

My most beautiful dustings, to you, were the most inconvenient grains of sand. No matter how many times you brushed me away, I came floating back, begging to be blown off again.

You couldn’t make up your mind. You still can’t.

I was your favourite gift and your most haunting curse.

You thought I noticed everyone in front of me and saw past you.

I only thought of you. I still think of you.

You can spit on me and attempt to drown me with your mouth.

You can choke me, void of air, forcing my last breath to be yours.

You can slap me in the head, as you try to rattle my brain and turn me into your fool.

You can leave me sobbing in the street, swimming in my salty pool like roadkill in its own blood.

You can laugh at me, a wreckage of woman gasping for hope, praying she has the strength to survive this and live to see another day.

I always make it through.

And tomorrow, there will always be you.

 

*Desculpa (Portuguese). Noun.

1. excuse (explanation designed to avoid or alleviate guilt or negative judgement)
2. apology (expression of remorse)