I'd told him what it had been like, living on thew streets. How the police were to be avoided at all costs, how they never helped you if you were homeless or busking. How they pushed you around and made you leave public spaces. How they let other people treat you like garbage without intervening. Cops would never support someone like me. Never.' - Eyes Like Mine
A woman is entitled to her secrets. She should be able to hide them away for as long as she wants, without people constantly prying, trying to take a peek inside her head. But secrets are exhausting and that's the plain truth of the thing. The effort of keeping them locked away, shielding them from view......I'm only human, after all. I look away from him, though, because it is the only way I can do this.
What do I have to give to love, to feed it so that it grows lush and beautiful like you see in the movies? The happy ones, I mean.......I'm talking about the good love that some people get to have, the kind that nourishes the soul, helps it bloom in the springtime no matter how frigid the winter that precedes it. Everything I have broken or bent somehow, stained so bad that no amount of extra-strength detergent could rub it all out, no matter what the ad says. I have no money to offer to love, no wisdom or kindness. Inside me I have nothing but vast reserves of suspicion and heartache, a current that runs so deep and dark I feel its chill right to my core. And, as it turns out, this current never plays me false.