Read to make monsters out of girls by Amanda Lovelace (3) Page 3 Online novels for free

“do you think she knows about us?” i ask.

“‘us.’ i fucking love the sound of that.”

- you always did crave the taste of your own lies.

this love leaves bloodstains

on my once-white

linens.

- indisputable evidence.

i’m so fucking sorry.

- what she still deserves to hear.

maybe

i didn’t know

what

real love was

before you

walked in,

but what i did

know is that

it’s not

supposed to

feel like

i’m waking up

choking on

p i e c e s

of my bashed-in

teeth.

- right?

maybe

i’m such a

night owl

because of all

those mornings

you woke up

& magically

decided

you

- no longer wanted me.

on the days

you decided you

were still in this

with me,

ancient trees

leaned in to my touch;

will-o’-the-wisps

swarmed around me;

butterflies

made nests in my hair;

falling stars

tangled in my eyelashes;

nectar oozed

from my fingertips;

& even oceans

feared the multitudes in me.

- moon made up of honey.

pull out

every poem

i’ve

ever written

about

you

they’ll all

have the

same

underlying

message

written

a thousand

different

ways:

i was

never ever

supposed to

crave you

the way

i did,

but

i did.

- hunger.

soon

“i didn’t mean it.”

turned into

“i never mean it.”

- it starts in the tender moments.

the

apologies

came

so frequently

it was

exhausting

for

both of us

eventually

you

didn’t bother

offering one

at all.

- numb.

on the off-chance someone ever asked me to describe you without actually describing you, i would say you are the bruises & teeth marks i find all over my body without remembering how they got there in the first place.

- this isn’t a haunting; it’s a hunting.

they say

if you place

a frog

in a gradually

boiling pot

of water,

they’ll become

so accustomed

to the familiar

sting

that they’ll

lay down

their whole

life for it.

i was

that frog,

except

i didn’t need

to be

convinced

to get

into that pot.

i was

so desperate

for

a warm place

to stay

& curl up in

that i took

the leap

inside

with no

convincing

from you.

- the cycle.

he says to me, “darling, if loving you is such a sin then it’s probably a good thing that god forgives sinners like me.”

- no absolution for me.

i can’t tell

the difference

between

you

the dead

winter.

- at least winter makes way for spring.

“why don’t you leave him?”

they ask me.

- the question.

“why don’t you leave him?”

i ask myself.

- the question II.

i can’t decide who it is i’m more frightened of— you, or the person i’ve let myself become since knowing you. that little girl used to wake up at dawn because she saw each day as an adventure awaiting her? the little girl who used to chase invisible faeries around the garden with her grass-stained feet? the little girl who saw magic in mundane things like mismatched teaspoons & broken clocks?

she’s so far gone, i don’t think she’ll ever be able to claw her way back to me.

- monster-girl.

the monster

made himself

another monster

because he

couldn’t stand

being a monster

all by

himself.

- & yet that weight grows heavier still.

quick!—

hunt down

all the mirrors.

quick!—

spider-web them

with your fists.

quick!—

erase all

traces of her.

if all else fails,

i’ll chew up the

remaining shards.

(i’ve swallowed much

sharper words

than this.)

i can no longer

stomach the beast

staring back at me

& i would do

just about anything

to make her disappear.

- the most unlovable girl of all.

if you’re looking for your perfect victim, then you might as well set down your lanterns. you won’t be able to find her here. i’m the fairy tale everyone forgot about because the lesson wasn’t pure or hopeful enough. in this one, there are plenty of times when red becomes a little bit wolf after the beast comes for her with his snapping jaw too hard, too often.

- i don’t excuse her & you shouldn’t either.

every word

that

suicide-jumps

from

your lips

sounds

unmistakably

a synonym

for

“farewell.”

- couldn’t you at least try to hide it?

during

the breakup,

attended

a total

of five funerals.

the whole time,

no one knew

about all the

funerals

i was

having for you

with

each step of

blood-

red

stilettos.

- i never knew you could grieve a breathing man.

when love wants to die, all it has to do is come in search of me.

- nothing but a coffin in my ribcage.

you remind me of the way flowers bloom so furiously in the spring, like the loudest fucking declaration of survival you’ll ever witness. as if to say, “i’m back. i’m here. i’m alive. i won’t waste a single second dwelling on what it’s like to be anywhere else.” although, you also remind me of the way flowers always—without fail—wither where they stand & slowly but surely return to the earth, particle by particle, back to the home they keep most of the year.

- where they know they truly belonged all along.

tell me—

are you

breaking her

you broke me,

or am i just that

special?

- playing favorites.

can you

explain to me

why

my arms

have turned

so cold

when

they never

even got

the chance

to hold

you?

because

i can’t.

- nothing makes sense with or without you.

what you need to know about the monster: when they threaten to disappear without a trace, they never really do. pay close attention next time & notice how they always leave the door cracked open a little behind them in fear that you won’t invite them in the next time they’re feeling insecure & lonely & starved for something more loyal than they’ve ever been.

- my open door.

he may have gone,

but i’m still finding

his fingerprints

on every

surface

of me.

- intruder.

he says he’s done with me.

he actually means it this time.

- two sentence horror story.

truth without the dare?

every cell in my body cries that i won’t be able to bring myself to show anyone else all the set-in stains on my soul, like a tour through the museum of how fucked up i am. my god, i just realized you’ll be one of the tour stops now. how the hell am i supposed to cope with that? it’s true what you’ve always told me—no one could ever want this natural disaster of a girl on their hands.

- no one except for you.

i’m the kind of love-exhausted a thousand years of sleeping in a glass box buried six feet under couldn’t cure.

- the snow white tale you didn’t hear.

i wish

i could say

i have finally

erased

all the pained

“i love you”s

& all the desperate

“i need you”s

whispered over

static-heavy phone lines.

try as i may,

i can’t do that.

i only wish i could

let go of your

venom-dipped words

& neck-broken promises,

but these are

the kinds of memories

that were made

for the ones like me

who love sitting

in empty parking lots

& weeping openly

under the street lamps

so we won’t have to apply

antiseptic later.

- the after us.

my body didn’t want to know what it was like to survive without you. for a year after, i watched that disappearing act of a girl from the corner of my bedroom ceiling, where she couldn’t hear me screaming that she needed to stop depriving herself of the things she needed the most. to stop with the numbers, with the counting. even then i knew how fucked up it was, but i started to feel happy when all the parts of me that were still in love with you were dripping like nectar from my bones.

- i am still rebuilding.

there was

no comfort

to be

found in

the

pages

that once

pulled me

through

it all.

- you took things i didn’t know you could take.

how

can you

expect me

to be friends

with you

when

the inside

of my mouth

is crusted over

with scabs

from

the effort

it takes not

to say those

three words

you never

want

to hear

from me

again?

- “i love you” / “i hate you”.

i’m the mistake he apologizes for

only to keep

making it.

- it seems you never learn, either.

i may not hold much faith in god (you know i never really have, which always bothered you), but the very thought of you lurking in the nearby shadows has me filling up all my perfume bottles with holy water.

- father, exorcise me.

either

take

everything i have

or drop it all

& walk away.

both

are no longer

an option

i’m allowing.

you see,

it’s not exactly

in this girl’s

nature

to be

torn

two.

- indecision.

to make monsters out of girls by Amanda Lovelace (3)

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