w o r d s . h e a t h h o u s t o n . n e t

c . o . n . t . e . n . t . s
† n e w . w o r d s
† p o e t r y
† p r o s e
† o t h e r ' s . p o e t r y
c . o . l . l . e . c . t . i . o . n . s
† c o n f e s s i o n s . w i t h
a p h r o d i t e
† s o t t o . l a . v o c e
† n e e d l e . v e r s e s
† k i s m e t
† n i g h t m a r e s
† t h e . a u t h o r
† www.heathhouston.net
all writings and media are copyrighted by heath houston unless stated otherwise. use without permission is strictly against the law.

always get it fresh

winter, february 14, valentine's day, sometime in the recent past and i was laying naked in a bathtub. i was near to thinking i had to run fast if i was going to escape; there were things going on i still don't understand that concerned me, but weren't about me. . . i think that was the problem.

me. i never took time to think about me, thats what always got me in trouble. i was always so concerned about someone else, especially now (she told our niegbors downstairs i was her fiancee), that they always got used to being the center of the universe, and i find out i'm on some strange outer orbit dying for a bit of warmth.

i splashed a bit of water to rinse the soap. i really hate taking a bath, i'm more of a shower person, but i needed more than fifteen minutes of pelting water to bring up some sort of decision in my mind. "should i stay or should i go?" i always thought that song was asking someone else to let them know one way or another, but now, after living those words, i realise. . . he's sitting somewhere alone, perhaps even in a bathtub like me, and he's making up his mind. but there's more to it than that.

should i go. . . and if i do, should i be polite and not stoop to the her level (often referred to by myself as level 9, all ice and no rum), or should i be as damaging as possible, i mean, hell. . . if i decide to leave, its not going to make much of a difference whether she hates me or not. i'll also save myself the trouble of thinking i got screwed later on (got screwed? now there's a novel idea. . .)

knock on the door.

"you still in there?" i hadn't even gotten to the part about "if i stay." maybe its best i hadn't.

"i'm getting out now. gimme a minute."

I towel dried and got dressed. i took my last look at that bathroom. . . i'd spent hours scrubbing it after i moved in to get it in some sort of decent shape. i kinda hoped she'd look at this bathroom when i was gone and cry. . . cry? now THERE'S a novel idea. the only time i remember her crying was when we were in new orleans and i couldn't afford a ring for her at the market. i should have learned then that if you buy love frozen you get freezer burn, always get it fresh.