the girl who couldn't say 'no'
A few days ago I tried to picture her face, but my sleeping consciousness apparently has deeper access to my visual memories. She was lovely outside, curly long fluffy hair the color of dark copper or rare autumn leaves, full lips and a mindmelting grin, pale hints of freckles, narrow pale shoulders and trim still after childbearing. She didn't like her nose, I think she saw it as the least perfect thing on her face without realizing that it was still a fine nose. She insisted she was fat because she wasn't as lean as a swimsuit model. So she starved herself on and off. I think if her self-image had been less perfectionist, she wouldn't have constantly needed new lovers to show how attractive they thought she was. The dream recalled to me how her wide dark eyes narrowed and twinkled when she laughed. From time to time I think of her and imagine I miss her, but the fact is I miss her beauty and the mistaken hope of belonging to each other.
the dream
We are lying in bed together, smooching and snuggling. I get up in pursuit of water or cigarettes, and she idly handles one of the framed photos on the ledge next to the bed. This brings to mind - further down the ledge stands the bad picture, the hate picture, the one that makes my bile rise and my hands eager to destroy. She sets down the photo she had been looking at as I take up this portrait of him and 2 buddies mugging for the camera.
"What made you think this could be in any way acceptable to me?" I tear it in half, quarters, eights, and shred at it with my teeth until my mouth and hands are full of disintegrating photo stock and bitter blue chemicals. "Fuck you, fuck him, fucking fuckers", meaningless strangled variations of this hurt word pour out of me. Against my own torrent of rage, her counterpoint: "I'm just some stupid slut". The irony, of course, is we both know she's not stupid, but in her weltansschauung "stupid" was the same as "wrong".
I accidentally choke on paper dust and swallow some of the bitter blue chemical, it burns in my tight queasy gut. I think I need to throw it up, my mouth is too dry to spit out the paper and chemicals as I wake. Gasping. | 
