My Game

Here is just a thought. nothing sentimental and such... just a thought.

Traces Of Us

I'm on time as usual. I find myself checking and double checking the time on the watch I begged for two Christmas' ago.
Finally 'she' arrives. Cute. She walks like she's been practicing a long time. She sits down and greets me with a half cocked smile.
I say, I ordered us wine.
No reply.
I breathe THE sigh to release the frustration that I feel tearing up my insides.
I choose my next sentences easily since I've practiced all this in the car on the way...
"Look Dee, I'm not one for small talk so, ill just say it- you're stepping on my toes, you're invading my space"
No reply.
I continue, "Why would you choose to be 2nd? If you know that Oris is with me, why then are you so desperate to have what someone already has?"
She shifts in her chair, then says, "I think you forgot, I'm not #2, I'm number one..I run this shit, Oris came to me- again..and again and yet again..I make it MY way, Oris is MY thing. Obviously if she cared she would've STILL been there."
I feel my ulcer taking over, I take a sip of the wine, deep breathing again and trying to stay FOCUSED. My mind says slap this bitch directly in her disrespectful ass mouth...but no, I continue even though I feel my jaw tightening and my head adjust itself to the side just ever so slightly.
"Ok, Dee, so here's the deal.. I'm not done eating off my plate, I'm not done with my meal-So push back."
She says.."Chii boo, the dishes are already done."
Then sits there with this smirk-I HATE 'smirky bitches'. At this point, I feel my temple aching, my body trembling, I'm bout to whup this bitch..for real.
....Ring, with the cellphone.. Its HERS, and its my baby.
The smirk appears again.
I gulp another sip, throw four hundreds on the table and leave thinking......
Ughh. I hate breakups.
I hate the time that passes thru from moment of NOTICE to signing a lease with only one name. I hate the cold and empty feeling of the king size bed. I hate the silence of the phone. I hate the extra closet space. I hate the smaller portioned dinners that seem to still sit in on the 'leftover' shelf in the fridge. I hate doing the laundry and finding memorabilia. I hate the caller-id with traces of HER. I hate your scent not being in the room. I hate the fact that I try to call you, and it goes to voice mail. I hate the tears that well up in my eyes from the 6 months we spent that mean nothing anymore. I hate the pictures that remain torn in hundreds of pieces on the floor. I hate the ring that you bought, telling me some bullshit about.. forever?? And especially, I hate the fact that its been 2 months since you left and I CAN'T get on with myself, I hate the new people I've tried to see comparing every inch, I hate the party invites from people who "remain neutral", I hate that even my thoughts are consumed by traces of us.