Most likely because I will never finish it.
Or it won't fit into the brand I'm trying to build. Or a baby pterodactyl will swoop in and destroy my computer, and every laptop I try to operate after that. When I convince my agent to accept handwritten MSs, the pterodactyl will develop a vicious hunger for pens and pencils alike.
I thought it'd be fun to blog about the words no one will ever read. So, for your viewing pleasure, here's a taste of the book I'll never finish.
Her
You wake me up the usual way;
incoherent text messages and snowballs
against my window.
We’ll get caught one of these
times,
but you don’t care.
“It’s worth it,” you say.
“You’re worth it,” you say.
You kiss me like the plane is going
down.
Like I’m the only thing worth
saving.
You kiss me like you’ll never
let me go,
but we both know you will.
You’ve already started.
His
You’re so fragile.
I could snap you into pieces with
my bare hands.
The look you’re giving me now
makes me
feel like I already have.
“I have to go,” I say.
You push your fingers into my
hair and slip your tongue into my mouth.
“Come upstairs,” you whisper.
The lie sticks on my lips but I
force it out anyway.
“I can’t.”
Do you know I’m going to see
her?
You curl around me and slide
your icy fingers underneath my t-shirt.
“Stay.”
I know I could…but I don’t.
Hers
Before, you never would have
left.
You would have stayed until the
sun spilled into my room.
Now, you don’t even look back.
Now, you don’t even try to hide
it.
Hide her.
She’s all over you.
Her lip gloss stains your
cheek, her perfume lays claim to your pillow.
You think I don’t see it?
I can’t see anything else.
His
Her mom doesn’t care that I’m
over,
though sneaking in is half the fun.
She’s waiting for me,
already naked under her covers.
It’s like getting a present
that’s already unwrapped.
She doesn’t run her fingers
through my hair.
I don’t care how school was.
She tears the buttons you just
sewed back on.
I tuck them into the pocket
full of condoms.
We don’t make love,
we fuck.
She doesn’t sigh my name,
she screams it.
She sinks her nails into my
back,
carving her initials into my skin like bark.
I don’t kiss her goodbye.
I never do.
All my kisses are saved for
you.
Hers
I remember the first time I saw
you.
Jenny warned me you were
trouble.
I couldn’t resist.
You acted like you didn’t even
see me,
But I felt your stare all
night.
You stayed on the couch the
entire party,
a different freshmen bringing
you a beer each time.
You only got up when I left.
You only got up to chase.
Jenny said you were hard.
Broken.
Damaged Goods.
I should have known fixing you
would
break
me.
His
I want you more after I’ve been
with her.
I want to wash the taste of her
out of my mouth.
I want you on my breath.
My parents know.
Dad just shakes his head.
Mom won’t even look at me.
They love you.
I love you.
Or at least I would if I knew
how.
Hers
“You look tired,” Jenny says at
school.
“I’m fine.” I shrug your
sweater off my shoulders.
I’m always fine.
“Don’t lie,” she whispers.
“I’m not.” I smile.
I’m always smiling.
“It’ll be okay.” She hugs me.
“I know,” I lie.
I’m always lying.
I think about the days
we couldn’t make it through
class
without sneaking out to
devour each other in the
stairwell.
Where did we go wrong?
His
I remember when it all changed.
You were out with Jenny.
You’re always with her.
I went to that party.
Alone.
She was there.
I filled her plastic cup until
foam sloshed onto her fingers.
I got hard when she licked it
all off.
I stayed hard until she sucked
me off.
I hated myself after.
I still do.
Hers
We sit together at lunch.
You and Jenny exchange insults
while I pick at my salad.
I feel your phone vibrate
against my leg.
You pretend you don’t.
You’ll delete the message later,
like you can erase your sins
with the press of a button.
I watch you in gym,
waiting to see if the sweat cracks
your mask.
When you flick your hair out of
your impossibly
blue eyes, the girls all sigh.
“She’s so lucky,” they whisper.
“I wonder what he’s like in bed.”
They don’t need to wonder.
All they need to do is ask.
Ask her.
His
I used to love the way you
watched me.
The way your mouth wrapped
around my name,
the way you blushed when I
kissed you in
the hallway.
I loved the way you loved me.
Now your love is a noose,
my guilt the rope,
slowly dragging me upward.
One of these day the toes of my
sneakers will drag across these
gym floors before
going up,
up,
up.
Because one of these days,
you’ll know.
Hers
I wait for you in your
beat up old chevy.
You smile when you see me.
The light makes your golden
hair shine
and my breath leaves my chest
in a gasp.
You’re perfect.
“Hey.” You press your mouth
against my
sun-warmed shoulder. “I missed
you.”
“I missed you too.” I still do.
Even though you’re right next to me,
I miss you so bad my heart actually
aches.
“Can I come over tonight?”
Your lips leave my skin.
“I’m busy tonight, how about
tomorrow?”
It’s always tomorrow.
His
I’m trapped.
Admitting it makes me
a pussy, but it’s the truth.
I can’t escape her.
I tried tonight.
I told her it was over,
that I couldn’t keep doing
this.
I let her hit me,
let her scream and throw
things.
I took my punishment.
But now it’s three am
and I’m reaching for my
phone, already
imagining
her mouth
around
me.
So that's that. What are some of the stories that dwell in your trunk?
