Today's writing

She blinks hard. I don’t see tears but part of me wants them. Something in me wants to hurt her, to open her up, to watch her disintegrate before me. That’s the part of love they don’t talk about: the cruelty, the evil wishes. The chance that you can always be ditched, dropped, deserted; that you can find yourself as yesterday’s news. The fear, the terror. Embedded, baked-in, endemic.