𝙇 is the letter that resides on my throat. I tell people it stands for the love I lost in languorous idiosyncrasies. Resentment balls like a pillar of groans embedded in impeded disappointment or illustrious pique and there’s echoes of what you’ve done lurking amidst my head, though not quite deliberately snatching my heart and pulverize the bits between your fingers as if it were an ant. And sometimes I’m led to believe that I’m over it, but it’s seldom when curled hands grasp my shoulders from behind and drag me back into fervent abyss. 𝙄 is me, but I am not you. I am not this inbred sophisticated villain that I so desperately want to detach myself from. I’m not the blood that trickles down my chin from the raw spots on my lips I keep chewing the skin from, cracked, sore, and sticky. I represent the anarchy of the wounded, leading on with broken hearts on my sleeve and tear stains tatted on my chest. And once upon a time, you cried there with your head nestled amongst these ghostly arms because to be quite frank, after your doings, I was there but not entirely there, and that is what I am. 𝙀 is the euphoria I used to feel when your kisses weren’t sewn with lipstick. How much did you love me then, I wonder, when those words left sullen lips that I can’t fathom how much truth it could have been then? Happiness isn’t the word I would use to describe that feeling with you. I would call it ‘remote indifference with a splash of complacence’. I was the embodiment of an aloof maiden left inferior and churlish as parallels matched up with solid differences—you and them—because at the end of the day, I can’t take that back.
𝙎 is the self-satisfaction I felt when I finally discerned jealousy and anger instead of paralyzed within my own muted emotions indefinitely. I hoped that maybe seeing you twice over would snap me out of this refutation I fixated myself, and I am still waiting for it. For there is no word on my tongue; behold, Oh Lord, you know it all. There might have been truth to this, the only truth that circulates between you and I, and it’s all this and that and quite baffling as to how it’s continued this way. But, I digress.