How can I remember his snake’s name and not his?
His snake was named Percival the Pirate.
I remember his pale skin and terrible dye jobs. His long fingers and scratchy junkie voice.
I loved him the way you love the dog that shits on your floor then cuddles you when you cry.
When he was blue, I pounded on him and slapped his face screaming promises of retribution and butt sex until I hit his heart hard enough to get him going again.
I remember his terror, his voice broken like a child whispering into their mother’s ear at midnight, ragged words for nightmares too real to stay secret.
“Nobody is holding. Nobody.”
His voice in the phone echoed the reality of childhood nightmares.
He loved me. As much as he knew how to love anything. He loved me enough to never touch me. I would lay naked as he devoured me with greedy eyes. I showed him everything from the hot secret of my wide open cunt to my shy asshole.
He loved me in hot greedy looks and embraces so tight we couldn’t breathe.
The last time, I pounded his chest and screamed in his face. I screamed at the paramedics. I learned to hate him when I stood almost alone by his coffin.
I swear that mother fucker was smiling.
I hate him still.
I will love him forever.
Loosely based on someone I knew.RIP you fuck.