| Dancers On The Ceiling by: V |
| I sat in the middle of my quiet and dark room. Staring at the ceiling above me as the lights danced upon it, having snuck in from the window to my right. They were like people, these lights. Happy, free, and dancing amongst each other like nothing mattered but then and there. I closed my eyes and leaned back on my hands, listening to the sound of his breathing on the bed to my left. I curled my fingers into the coarse carpet. I was unhappy. Truly unhappy with myself and my position and everything that was happening to me now. I peeked through my eyes. They were still dancing. A little bit faster now, like people on drugs. Their hair and their hands swaying in the air. I closed my eyes. Stupid. His breathing changed, growing a little softer and he turned under the dirty and stained covers. I tilted my head, resting it on my shoulder. I opened my eyes and stared into the dark, trying not to look at the dancing people anymore. I pulled my hands towards my knees, cupping the ragged jeans that covered my legs. I picked at the hole in them, fraying it a little bit more. The dancing people begin to giggle, to each other, at me, I couldn't tell really. I listened to the slam of a door down the hall and then to the footsteps walking past on the old wood in front of the apartment door. He shifted underneath the sheets again, moaning in his sleep. There were voices outside, soft voices and loud voices. Some were gruff, some held a light lisp, and some were making my teeth grind involuntarily. I rubbed my hands down my legs, curling my fingers around my ankles and tugging at the skin and bone there through the denim. The cuffs of the pants were brown, even in the dark I knew that, brown and torn. I needed new jeans. But that meant working a little harder. I was tired of working harder just to stay clean. I took my hands off my legs, sliding them up the sides of my face and into my hair. I closed my eyes again, tugging at the dirty strands between my fingers. I have a headache. The dancing people started to laugh a little bit louder, this time mingling it with talk. With words. He twisted the covers and woke himself up with a little snore. I rubbed the lipstick stains on my neck that I knew were there. Even in the dark I knew they were there. He was odd that way. "You here?" I didn't say anything, he was so stupid. If he'd tried to listen he would have known that I was here on the floor. "Um. Hello?" The dancing people talked louder, their voices mocking and laughing. They danced faster as their voices grew louder. "Yeah, I'm here." I stood up from the floor, rubbing my eyes with my hands and walked over to the bed. I reached out until I touched his leg under the sheet. The dancing people danced harder and faster. Laughing so loud that it was starting to hurt my ears. I crawled up onto the bed, over him until my face was over his. They laughed and made jokes. I groaned inside my head and smiled on the outside. "Wanna fuck again?" The End |