illicit affairs • Taylor S.

She was nothing but a hidden undertone in those poems of yours. No one had ever heard her name pass your lips, no one but her, of course. She had it spill from your lips between shaky breaths and moans, whispered into her ear. But whenever those treasured moments of yours ended, she made sure nobody saw you leave. Of course she did. What if her wife found you?

In its time of prime the parking lots felt like beautiful rooms, but slowly her gentle whispers began to feel like lies of pity. She hadn’t changed, it was your perspective that did so. The way she always smoked afterwards lost it’s addictive dizziness. Instead, it felt like you were choking. She killed you a million little times, but you had no right to say a word, you’d known from the beginning. You knew she was married, you knew she was far beyond your years. Yet you let her in, allowing her to show you colors you couldn’t see with anyone else, losing yourself in daydreams of “what-if’s?” Now, you were trapped in those fantasies, almost believing they could turn into reality… idiotic fool.

You found yourself in your car, taking the usual roads less traveled by, until you were standing in her parking lot. Your eyes fixed on her wife’s car. You shouldn’t go in now. You really shouldn’t. It would ruin everything, those fantasies would turn into hollow memories. But maybe this was the only way to let them shimmer in daylight. Your trail of thought was interrupted by an knock on your car window. Without even glancing at her, you unlocked the door. “What are you doing here!?” She hissed angrily as she climbed into the seat. You didn’t look at her; your eyes stayed fixed on her wife’s car. She let out a frustrated sigh, following your gaze. “Listen, ki—” She began, but you cut her off before she could finish
“Don’t call me kid! Don’t call me baby!!” You nearly shouted, finally turning your sharp eyes toward her. This wasn’t like you. But oh, the mess she had made of you.