Barrel In Your Mouth
Mirrors. Seriously? If I am laying in bed I should be staring up at the ceiling… but nope, just mirrors. Of course B would have mirrors on his ceiling. That is just how he rolls and I have to say I enjoy it myself too. Just not at this moment.
This particular morning doesn’t sit well with me. Most morning with him never did.
He was always in a bad mood in the morning…bitchy…withdrawn…cocky as hell.
I was always in a bad mood in the morning… pretty much with the same attributes.
Two fuckin peas in a pod.
He is awake too and turns on the stereo next to him… playing some remix CD that he had created, supposedly for “us”, which obviously I question.
We are both laying there. Both silent. He looks over at me and decides to talk.
-I don’t know what prevents me from rolling over, reaching past you, opening your nightstand drawer to pull out the gun, and then jam the barrel in your mouth, breaking your teeth, and pull the fucking trigger.-
I am not in fear, I do not panic at what he says. I do, however, have a quick retort…
~Because I would fuckin beat you to it and shoot you in your face… call it a successful suicide.~
He smiles deliriously and laughs his haughty laugh.
– That is why I love you baby girl. You are crazy!-
All of a sudden he is all sweet and joking, thinking he is so cool, as always.
I lay there for a moment and it hits me… this is one fucked up relationship. Why was I still in it?
Crazy, STUPID, love. That is why.
Next thought… the gun needs to go.
© bipolarmuse 2012
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2000. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
- Bipolarmuse ♥ Whata Ride (bipolarmuse.com)