Just One More Line

“Just one more line”

My voice jump starts my day. I am awake before the spark has time to travel through my brain

I am a junkie

The next line will be perfect and pretty as me

Just one more line for you to read

The headboard is leather and pinned every few inches with buttons that look as if they were shot there with a gun that should be used to take an elephant down

I can taste the oil that it was rubbed down with to keep it from cracking

My mouth is glue and it is all that keeps me from laughing at the piss colored wall and the overly organized dresser that holds a war stock of men’s cologne and a fur lined mannequin hand that holds a wristwatch

All I am wearing is a pair of panties that don’t belong to me. A horrible shade of red covers the triangle in the front and around my waist is black covered in some God awful pattern of star sparkles. Not enough fabric covering my ass to not know where I am or how I got there. All it takes is adjusting the string back to where it should be and I remember everything

A sick embarrassment runs through my body and flops into my stomach

Suddenly I am falling asleep on the city bus. Nodding off in my own lap. Just fitting in with the others. Even on a sober day the bus will rock me to sleep

I picked up my check from work and swayed at the counter. Just hoping everyone was too dumb to notice how fucked up I was

That’s when he put his hand on my shoulder. God I hate being touched. Even an accidental brush from a stranger will send me over to a wall at the first chance I get so I can wipe them off of me. I’m subtle about it. I hide my crazy when they aren’t looking

I looked over to find the store owner Greg smiling at me. I thought he was just a myth

I thought I was in trouble

He asked how I was doing and if I was coming back. He seemed to know a lot about me for never talking to me before

Maybe there is something in my folder in the office safe that has my information. Maybe he studied it and knew how easy it was

Before I knew it we were outside talking and smoking cigarettes by his truck. I told him about my father and how hard it had been and he told me a hundred stories to my one of how he could relate

I stopped talking so much when I realized how naive I sounded

I just let him lead

He offered me a ride home

“I’m okay” I said “I have a bus pass”

“You’re in no shape to be on your own” he said

I guess I wasn’t hiding it as well as I had hoped

It wasn’t like the trucker. I never said that I was going to let him get lucky

We played pool at a few bars and I drank whatever shots he bought

Then he held my hand as we crossed the street to get back to his truck. It wasn’t a romantic thing. He was helping me because I was gone. Unable to do these things on my own

Staring at my phone at a text that Hector never sent as the wind that would never have never been there rushed through my hair

Guiding me to what he wanted

What I want is to not want this anymore

But I need just one more line



Author: The Unamused Muse

You know me better than I do.

5 thoughts on “Just One More Line”

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