The pigeon's head twitches, looking at me.
Then back at my phone,
like he’s ready to fly a hit.
Like he’s saying?—
You want both of ‘em face-down in the Hudson?
I’m just askin’.
Might be easier than feeling this shit.
A little splash. A little closure.
I drag in a breath, and it fucking burns.
God.She wanted another chance so badly.
She wanted him—believed in what they had?—
and look where it got her:
broken in public, under a streetlamp,
mascara dripping, tears bleeding out slow.
The heartache,
the grief,
the gamble,
the way your chest caves in,
none of it is worth it.
Mom loved me, she died.
Dad loved me, he died.
Brandon loved me, he left.
Raymond scarred me, he stays.
Life’s a sick fuck and Love's not the fairy tale people believe it is.
I think it’s another word fordeal.
And someone always gets the worst end of it.
Usually the one who gave more.
Usually the one still sitting on the bench.
Alone.
Celie’s curled into herself now, quietly crying,
