Pennies
It's the bitter metallic taste of pennies in your mouth.
The tension in the air as time pulls tight like a rubber band. His hand gripping one side across from mine and we're slowly walking away. Silence stretching between us.
The sting across your skin when it's broken and he says, "I kissed another girl."
He kissed another girl.
"It didn't mean anything"
"I still love you"
"I just wanted to kiss someone."
And I must've swallowed the pennies, because god I can't breathe.
There's something lodged in my throat and it's warm and metallic. Pennies.
My palms are pressed deep into my eyes because I can see it.
And I want to rub it away because I'm choking on pennies and I don't want my last memory to be of him pulling her in and his lips brushing hers.
The pennies must've dissolved or something because suddenly I can breathe but it doesn't sound alright. It sounds like an old rusty machine grinding down.
And I realize the grinding is my teeth, and the dissolved pennies are a bitten tongue with metallic blood filling my mouth.
I wish the pennies would reform.
So I could spit them out into my hand, because I could use the good luck.
So I could have a fist full of something to throw at the wall.
So I could search each penny for the year and remember any memory from it that isn't this moment.
Or maybe I could just leave the pennies in my mouth because I have nothing else to say. I need something to distract my teeth and tongue and lips of your absence.
And I know it doesn't make much sense because here I am writing about pennies.
Pennies.
They cost more to make than they're worth.
But we throw them down wishing wells and into fountains like a want is more than a need. Wishes over wealth.
And isn't that a funny name? A wishing well. And I wish I could say that I was wishing him well. But I'm not.
We buy people's thoughts on bargain when we offer a penny in return.
And usually you don't get your money's worth because all they'll do is smile and tell you, "oh it's nothing."
He's saying my name.
I'm silent.
Then I'm spitting pennies at him, as I wish for him to stop.
And he hands them carefully back to me as he asks for my thoughts.
Comments
Post a Comment