“Never said those words before…
“Don’t know how to deal.
“It’s making me stupid.”
He’s still staring at me, brows raised like?—
I said it out loud so now you’re mine.
End of fuckin’ story.
“But I know one thing?—
“I only want you. And that's not gonna stop.”
He turns to the rest of the room.
The guitar swings back into his hands.
“She’s here. I’m good.
“Let’s get back to the fuckin’ music.”
30 /CRY BABY
JANIS JOPLIN
// 12:00 AM //
I don’t cry in public.
I don’t.
I didn't when they kissed.
Or when the drink hit my face.
Or when I was forced to listen to the Moaning War Documentaries, picturing his mouth between their thighs, his fingers knuckle-deep, his name in their throats.
I held it all in,
swallowed it down like a good girl,
packed it behind my heart
like a handful of grenades.
I didn’t fucking cry once;
made it past thesplash,
then halfway through the last goddamn song,
pretending I didn’t want to throw up.
Let me see anyone else stand there while the only guy they’ve ever fucking cared about gets his thigh stroked, mouth kissed, sex stories shared, hair fucked with, staring straight at them while it happens.
Let me see anyone elsenotcry.
