Fake Persona

{flash fiction, first drafts and exercises in writing}

[fakepersona]

Sadness, Still

Tacos are what we had for lunch on the day you broke up with me. I wasn’t really sad, but it was unexpected. I was comfortable in your arms in the way it must feel like to be hugged by an octopus. Your voice the melted butter on my toast. The way you parted my legs with such familiarity it reminded me of sitting in the same chair every single day in English 101.

You begged to wear my favorite coat that morning. It was the first cold day of the year. October 17. Three days after my birthday. You tried to give me an orgasm for every year I’d been alive, but you fell five short and we fell asleep, naked and exhausted. Our sheets damp with the love that no longer existed between us. 

I ordered three potato tacos. You ordered a burrito heavy with guacamole with the hottest in-house salsa. We ate in silence. Too afraid to speak. It had been lingering in the air all day. We held hands. We admired the orange leaves on the sidewalk. We texted silently to different friends.

Then after two margaritas, you let it slip out of your lips, like a joke. Maybe we should just break up. You even mocked laughed at the end. Then you looked into my eyes, eager for an answer. It started as one tear. Then a few more. It all mingled into the drink that I was holding too tightly in my hand. Food drunk. Drunk drunk. 

Slam dunk. My heart like little ice crystals formed on a car window after the first frosty morning. Each one warming up and dissipating into the air like they were never there. Forgotten. Unlike these very words I’m sure I will repeat in my head until the day I die. Again and again. Fragile. Crying. You held me, telling me that you didn’t mean it, but we both know that you did. I wanted to let you go, but my tears were holding us together. Our bond, sadness. It brought us together and as we’ve found ourselves happier than ever, we separated, quietly.

My apartment felt too big without you in it. Your things, abandoned. The green toothbrush. The blank cassette tapes. Roller skates. 

I let it sink in.

Then remembered you still had my favorite coat.

[chisel]

Hey, Please Help a Writer!

It’s 2016, so I thought I’d try something new. Our Patreon is still a work in progress, but instead of working on daily haiku or writing short fiction whenever, I decided to challenge myself in a different way. 

I’m posting all of my writing ONLY ON PATREON!

For just a $1 a month, you get 12ish quirky haiku & 1 short prose piece & to help a writer write what she wants to write!

I’ll probably turn all of this writing into a zine in 2017. I plan to put out a few zines this year as well.

https://www.patreon.com/TGIFarcade

If you want an idea of what you might be reading, check out Fake Persona or Green Tea Haiku. I’m still going to be updating my blog once a month at Don’t Tell Him I Said That.

[fakepersona]

Promises

There is something comforting in knowing you’d never leave me. You’ll be there waiting in the field when I return. You’ll stare at me in the mornings. You will remind me that I am human. I’m thankful for what you do. 

I forgive you for being possessed by a demon and eating me alive, but I’m thankful for our friendship in the afterlife. 

I would have never met you if I was still in my flesh pajamas. Slowly, rotting and wrinkling, like a jack o’lantern forgotten after Halloween.

When we kiss, I feel nothing. We decide to not try again.

I look in my old house windows and see my wife kiss her new husband. 

My kids. Our dog and cat and three guinea pigs. I miss them all. 

Did she ever love me?

You assure me that she did. 

We hold hands and scare the crows together and look for our next victim. You promise me it won’t be her.

[fakepersona]

Bubblegum

Her lips tasted like bubblegum. 

The taste lingered on my tongue as I walked home and tried to feel guilty for kissing her. I didn’t.

I didn’t want it to stop, but if a woman pushes you away, you walk away. Well, you embrace her softly and tell her she’s beautiful and she blushes and thanks you and you nod your head as you walk away. That’s how I did it.

Not that I was usually pushed away.

I wondered if she was thinking about me right now.

I wanted to text her and tell her I liked her taste. That sounded a little too much. Not now at least. Maybe in a few weeks I’d taste that bubblegum again. Lick her lips like ice cream. We’d giggle and she’s probably push me away again.

Then I’d see her at a bookstore and she’d grab my arm and pull me really close only to whisper, “I miss you,” and do a vanishing act.

She did things that kept her on my mind. She knew what she was doing, but she’d say, “No-no-no” and shake her head but wink at me right after. This woman knew what she was doing and I was willing to let her pull me through hoops.

I was patient.

It was nice to be wooed for once. I usually did the wooing. I normally lost. We’d get into one big fight and they’d leave with the slam of the door.

This time I just went along with it. I went along with everything. I liked the way she wanted to do things. I was okay with not getting my way, which was...I would like to date you right this second. I want to see you tomorrow and the next day and the next one after that.

She would tell me she needs her space. 

I gave her space. I gave her stars. I gave her the moon.

She took it all and left me with the taste of bubblegum on my tongue.

[fakepersona]

Just Looking

I still really want to kiss you.

You’re across from me at this cafe and not looking my way. 

I stare at you, hoping to force a psychic connection. Turn around. Turn around.

Nothing.

You’re staring at your phone. You’re smiling. You’re laughing.

Laughing at something I didn’t say and I feel a twinge. A twinge of what. 

Jealousy.

Disgusting.

I swallow it down with my coffee. Bite of brie on toast. I’m still staring. I don’t care if people are looking at me look at you with the lust of a thousand teenage boys. I want you. I want to kiss you. I miss you. Your smell. Your hair. Your tongue on my thigh. Your moan. Your breath on my ear. The sweat on your back.

You look up. Wave. Smile.

I wave back and nod. Kinda laugh like I’m flirting and immediately turn my head down. Then foolishly look back up. What am I doing?

You’re walking towards me. You’re walking towards me.

I’m smiling. Too big. Smaller. Too small. Frowning. Smiling. 

You’re walking towards me.

Still walking. 

I’m smiling.

I look like an idiot.

You’re walking past me.

It wasn’t me.

After all.

[fakepersona]

Grudges

I think about the chip on your shoulder rising and falling with each breath

I close in on you but you keep backing up "If I could only..." but you shake your head no-no-no

So you will live forever with that chip on your shoulder

and I will continue to try to rid you of it

[fakepersona]

Cliche

I am broken but instead of gluing myself together I just stay as is

You call me beautiful and it feels like a lie but you look at me like I’m truth

You see my cracks and look the other way

I see my cracks and run away

You always catch me and I always smile

[fakepersona]

Puddles

Your face looked so sad when I said no

Tears, welling puddles forming

I reached for my rain boots letting you cry on my shoulder

A swamp formed and we walked home together arm in arm

[fakepersona]

You, Again

I think about you, now and again, and wonder what I did wrong.

What did I say? What did I do?

But it wasn't me. It was always you.

[fakepersona]

What’s His Face

“I’m really scared of running out of ideas,” I said, pulling up my striped knee socks. “I feel numb. I can’t write when I’m numb.”

“Writer’s block is not real. Get over it.” 

He was still naked and his genitals were on full display. Sad and shriveled and looking a lot like how I felt on the inside.

“I hate you,” I said, slamming the door behind me.

I didn’t even know him. The yes-yes-yes still lingering on my tongue and the bruises were the only trace that he wasn’t just an illusion. 

Why was I such a fuck-up?

Here I was again casually contemplating suicide over breakfast. I didn’t want to die, but I wasn’t living either. I didn’t feel sad, angry or anything.

I was simply a cloud. A giant fucking rain cloud ruining everyone’s goddamn life.

Even when he was fucking me, I wasn’t there. I was in my cloud castle wishing everything would just stop.

Then it came to me.

The words vomited out of my stomach.

Maybe I owed him an apology, but I wasn’t going to give him one.

[fakepersona]

Too Well

I'm thinking about you right now. Your clothes. Your scent. The way you linger on me days, weeks and months after our last touch. Our last fuck. 

It keeps happening.

Around and around and around.

The innocent texts that start off as hellos and the oh so important "how are you?" until we finally get to the "want to meet up?"

I always do and you know it. You know me too well. 

Your breath always smells the same. Peppermint. Your aftershave, something generic and musky. Your deodorant and body wash mingling into a man smell. It doesn't really matter. 

You stink. 

In a nice way.

I go down on you like I haven't eaten dick in a decade. It tastes not especially special. It tastes like it smells. Like flesh and salt and clean mostly. That's good. You hump my mouth just the right amount. I don't gag, but you always seemed please and impressed. I tease you with my tongue. I flourish. I finale but you always say "Not yet, not yet" like you haven't had sex in years.

You want me. Pushing me against the wall to tongue kiss. Your peppermint chapstick stinging my lips. I like it. I smoosh my lips together. Cooling. Calming. 

You pin me against the wall. Your hand down my pants. I kiss your neck. I'm whispering what I always whisper.

"Put it inside me. Fuck me, already."

I'm impatient and you draw it out. You fucking do everything you can to postpone it. I'm bored. Your mouth on my mound. Licking my clit. I could read a book of poetry and take a nap. It's not bad, but it's not what I'm here for and you know it.

You're on a mission. You bite my thighs and I'm back to attention. You growl at me with blue eyes. You take control again and I weaken a little. I try to stay tough, but you make me burn with your peppermint breath and your peppermint lips. 

I can still taste you. Me. My blood when you bit my lip. I didn't even say ouch. 

You whispered I love you when you came.

I could barely walk the next day. Bruises on my ass and thighs. My nipples in a permanent state of arousal. Reminding me of you. Reminding me that I can't have you till my cell phone chimes that little hello. 

It might be days, weeks or months.

I walked out without saying a word, but I hope you'll forgive me.

Again.

[fakepersona]

Live

“What if my heart just stopped?” She asked, her eyes rolling back in her head. Then he shook her to life and said, “That’s impossible while I’m around.”

[fakepersona]

Red

Every single morning, she heard the saw blades, she grew more resentful till they were no longer cutting metal but flesh. And she laughed. And she didn't stop till every single tear shed was red.

[fakepersona]

Pop

I can see him out my window. Not with my eyes. But he's there. He makes the air taste sticky like Tootsie Roll Pops. I lick my lips and I feel him on my shoulder. I close my eyes. My hand slowly sliding under my skirt. Then I feel the bite.

It's the last thing I feel.

[fakepersona]

No Shame

I guess it won't be easy letting you go. I say to no one in particular as I point at a dust bunny that is playfully licking itself. 

So don't. He says, hugging me tightly.

I fall into his adverbs, because they're easy.

Lovingly. Longingly. Beautifully.

He plays guitar and my favorite part isn't the music. It's his expression when he gets it. When he figures it out. When he puts the guitar pick in his mouth and holds it there. His lips. I can't stop thinking about his lips. The way he holds my bottom lip between his teeth. Nearly pain. Mostly pleasure.

The way he asks. No, the way he coyly demands me to remove my clothes for him.

What if I don't?

I'll punish you, he says, smiling.

Grinning, I do what he commands. I'm his. I don't want to fight it.

His lips on my mouth. His hands on my hips. Grasping tightly. Again and again and again.

I fall into his trap. His eyes are pools. I sink. It's hopeless. I'm trapped under this thing called love.

There is nothing to do but accept it and move on, hand in hand.

[fakepersona]

Boy

Before you there was him & him & him

all boring names with boring jobs and chapped lips

but we kissed and fucked like it was no big deal and it wasn't

so we moved on

then I found you and we kissed and held hands and I thought twice before giving in but I did anyways because I'm that kind of girl

But you stayed and I stayed and I hope you never leave because you're that kind of boy and I want to be that kind of girl

[fakepersona]

Ash

Beth could barely breathe. Her ghosts filled her lungs and she coughed ash. Her ears whispered the sounds of waves. Her feet felt cold and her toes turned black. Her fingers were gnarled and she knew it was time to let go. 

"I'll be there soon, Henry. I'll be there soon."

She died with her eyes open.