The author has asked to remain anonymous.
Tuesday came at just the right time, and
Tuesday was almost your first everything. Tuesday liked to talk hockey with
you, and his hand would lazily drift under the waistline of your pants during
games. He acted like he hated your team, but by the end of your relationship he
knew all the players. Tuesday was 3am adventures, and Tuesday was spending all
weekend in his bed. Tuesday was stolen hats and blue bandanas. When he kissed
you it felt like fireworks, and everything about him drove you crazy in a
mostly good way. But then Tuesday slept with your best friend, and tried to
keep it a secret. He suddenly became the water on a butterfly’s wing, rendering
it flightless. You wanted to hate him, being that small little butterfly, but
you just couldn’t shake the water. Even when you couldn’t stand the sight of
him, you still wanted him. He was secrets, and lies, and oh so appealing.
Finally, he became a guilty pleasure, and you shared a secret. You shared a
secret that would destroy people. But you didn’t do it for the right reasons.
You wanted to hurt the way that you were hurt, and didn’t care who you dragged
down in the process. You became sneaky, and the ink oozed between the cracks of
your heart, slowly smothering and suffocating it. Tuesday was never what you
wanted, but at the time he was what you needed. Tuesday taught you that even
though you touted the innocent act, you were capable of the ability to
destruct; remaining dormant until activated. Oh how thrilling it was to hurt.
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