My belly was full at our proposal. Stuffed with the chocolates you gifted me. I hesitated before each bite, but you whispered love delicate into my navel. There were some dresses I couldn’t fit any longer, but your hand still fit snug, interlocked with mine. I soon left to prepare our home for you to follow. The skin on my lips blister differently now. And I’m unsure of what meals will come when I’ve gnawed them naked. “I’m OK Eve. I’ve been working out more.” I’ve managed to save my pride from the unforgivable hollow above my womb. “I’m eating well.” My belly bells a memory of a time you made me blush under all of me brown. The recollection of which can barely make me feel harder than the ache below my breast. Eve, are you as smitten as I am hungry? Does it bring you the same despair? There’s marrow in the bones, Eve. But there’re only bones in the wasteland. And I spoke hushed to myself about love Eve. But there’re only bones in the wasteland. And I tried to clutch something to hold on to from the parts of me where you planted seed. But there’re are only bones. There’re some dresses I’ll never fit all the bones of me no longer brown. Just dull and gray than what I left you like. If love be edible, it had rotted by now. I am supposed to be happy Evey. But among the other buzzards in the valley, I am lucky to be the happiest one.
I swear to God I hate New York. I hate the uppity writers who think I’m lazy because I can’t get a writing job in this rat hole city. And all they talk about is SEO, technical writing and other bullshit. And don’t get me started on work relevancy and experience. I mean yea you want your employees to have a background in the field, but God forbid an entry level employee needs actual training. And I’m writing and writing and it’s getting me absolutely nowhere. With my anxiety I can’t work customer service, especially in this pompous city with all these rude people. Phew! I feel better for the moment. 😂 Rant over. Tell me what ya think.