Warning: This post contain content that may trigger survivors of abuse. If this is an issue for you, you might want to skip today’s post.
They have been playing this song on the radio a lot.
And it’s bringing things up for me.
See, there is this man who is trapped in the fabric of my limbs’ history.
For better or worse, we got tangled up many summers ago, and even though I set him free, he returns in memories.
When I think back to the best night of a most perfect summer, I remember fluffy white towels and hot showers and blueberries bought fresh from a crooked fruit stand.
Stevie Nicks sang for us, husky and low.
He was the leader and I wanted to follow.
And it was good.
When we said goodbye that August, I leaned against a brown Chevette. The leaves were still green when he put his hands on either side of my head and squeezed. He took a red lollypop out of his mouth and when we kissed, our teeth scraped together.
I should have known then. Because lollypops are too sweet. They are filled with artificial flavors and colors and objects in the mirror appear closer than they are.
One year later, he used his body like a weapon and blew me apart.
So I think of him each August.
I can’t help it.
These days, we have no real connection.
But I wonder if his wife knows about what he did. His children?
I wonder what they might think about the man in the expensive suit, if they knew he once gutted a girl like a fish.
How well do we know our partners? And would we really want to know their darkest secrets?
What music brings you back to dark places?
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