earworms

it's indie ink challenge time again! the heavens opened up and gave me another challenge from my pal random girl -

prompt: smartass is the new funny

meanwhile, my prompt went out to kirk. check out his response and the rest of the great pieces from this week's round.


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i watched my step, careful not to trip. a million obstacles to be navigated littered the path - a pile of firewood, a box of recyclables, haphazardly tossed stones, secrets that shouldn't have been spilled. i found him at the end of it, smiling a smile i knew too well to trust. the one that says i'm so happy you're here at the same time it says don't trust me. that smile hides so much if you don't know it as well as i do. but i know it because i've put it there, my past mistakes, my lack of willpower, my feral need. i fed it, cultivated it, decorated it with a fucking bow. i know it well and i have one of my own. but it's not for him though, that smile, never for him. the one i wear for him hides everything i want to say but shouldn't, everything i want to believe but can't, everything that's really going on that i can't bring myself to acknowledge out loud - the real world outside of this house, that room, the space between us, the real world where we no longer exist as we do here. his smile hides the bottle of vodka, the words whispered about me not minutes ago, the one who was there before me.

i felt like i'd trekked through the andes to get to that face, those eyes, that smile, those arms; i raced into them.

it was a mistake, it was wrong, i shouldn't have been there, but oh god how i wanted to be there. defenses up, i told myself, grabbing my shield and pulling down my armor. my armor is a different color than the tin man's, but every bit as effective. i say what i need to say and he likes the way it sounds, because he doesn't know what's behind it. it sounds like a joke, that clever snark that masks my fears. i wrap my words in sarcasm to say the truth without being truthful, he thinks they're mild-mannered, teasing jabs. i speak so i don't cry, and i play pretend but i don't lie. the thing about words? you can say exactly what you mean to say, know every bit of meaning. but you can also hear what you want to hear, and what is said and what is heard is not always the same. to him, i say what i must say and i let him hear whatever he will. i've done my part in saying the truth, right? he'll hear what he wants, his version, because he only knows his truth. he doesn't know mine, he never has and never will. my truth is a joke to him, and that's fine, because he is a joke to me. i'm not coming back here after tonight i said, and he laughed before seizing my face and pressing it to his. after all, smartass is the new funny, isn't it?