Eggshells

by Parm K.C.

it seems he only wants me when he wants my body, so I deliver. because I’d rather him want me for my body than not want me at all.

I colored his red flags green, but I’m almost out of paint. his true colors are starting to show.

I pass lovers on the street – couples holding hands, strolling in harmony, looking like they belong together and I think to myself – I hope he is good to her. I hope he keeps her safe. I hope she feels his love from her head right down to her toes. I hope she gets everything that I don’t.

I used to think love would be like old black-and-white films. that I would grow up, meet my hero, and be saved. but being with him is no film – being with him feels like a nightmare.

when I was 14, I felt like no boy wanted me. I felt ugly and awkward, drab and undesirable. that 14-year-old girl continued to live inside of me and her voice stayed in my head. so when he came along and called me pretty, she fell to her knees. it was music to her ears. she heard nothing after that – she saw nothing after that. she decided right then and there she’d deny him nothing. all he ever gave her was the word pretty, and she went ahead and gave him absolutely everything.

I don’t know how he can fall asleep and sleep so peacefully when I am sobbing next to him. I don’t know how the one who claims to love me can be so unaffected by my tears and my distress. I don’t know how he can drift into dreams after we argue, yell, shout, and fight. maybe he doesn’t care enough while I care entirely too much.