Sunday, November 27, 2011
She feels the lack of him accutely. They have agreed to remain friends. Still she sees him across a crowd and feels as if a part of her has been torn out, her chest aches. She might be sick. This life without him feels like a cancer growing or worse, an organ removed. From the intensity of the pain she knows that she has given too much of herself already. She has been depleted by the relationship. All that has been removed is the sex, and yest, still friends, she feels like a pale imitation of herself. The watches him chat and flirt, so charming, with other girls. She knows the signs, the turn of his head, the sweet trip in his words, the boyish vulnerability. She feels like he has taken a part of her with him, her confidence, her quick wit. She will need to take these things back for herself. She looks around at a room bereft of anyone who might interest her. How many of these people will she sleep with, how many harts will she devour before she feels that part of her that is missing begin to grow once more?