At the end of our 4 years together, he had finally had enough.
I slept on the couch, he wouldn’t talk to me. I would come home, and he’d be sitting on the couch. Eyes glued. Wouldn’t move. Wouldn’t acknowledge me. It wasn’t different from any other day. Except my time was up. I had to move out. And the truth is at the end of it, I stayed because, we had cute house. There was my cute, price appropriate, tattoo guy. And, Wine across the street. Convenience.
I made a home out of every hell hole. And it was comfortable.
I’ve had to change my address more times then the witness protection program.
And I was tired of it.
But. After that.. no matter what boyfriend I had, or where I was. I couldn’t be alone.
I couldn’t sleep so soundly like they could. Head full of clouds. Mine was, of thunder.
I would get angry. I would cough, or nudge them. Roll over in my sleep.
Whether it was drugs, or they just were too tired, from work, life, things I didn’t have
to keep me winding down when everyone else did.. I got enraged.
How dare you sleep
without me.
I used to leave at 3 am, because I’d toss and turn, with the sound of there snoring.
And I’d regret it the next day. With 1,000 voicemails of them freaking out , saying
“who the fuck just leaves in the middle of the night?!”
I did.
Because I wanted to be chased.
Noticed.
I swear,
I’m still
invisible.