My Baby - poetry

MY BABY CREATIVE WRITING Lukewarm black coffee twists my insides as I swallow it down. The grainy, burnt bitterness lingers like sand in my throat. *This or water. Don't break that fast.* *Together, we'll do it. Together, we're strong.* *Hold each other accountable.* I'd never say that, of course. I look up at her tired blue eyes. Slightly sunken and swollen. Crying, high, both, maybe. Malnourished, definitely. Leftovers from last night, or the remnants of this morning, I'm sure. Watch her greedily down her water, the white-pink pads of her fingers imprinting the cardboard cup. Of all the things to fill the hole, and you choose icy water? That'd freeze me right down to the bone. Maybe she likes it that way. I eye the thinner girls as they walk past us, drinks ranging from 200 to 6, not a care in the world. How could you care, with legs like those, really? I follow them with my eyes, Lola does as well. They're thinner than me, thinner than her. Lucky bitches. Born that way, unappreciative motherfuckers. Oh well, in their 20s, when they pack on the pounds and Lola and I are still going down, down, down, who'll be laughing then? Lola says it'll be us, pretty as can be. But something in those ocean eyes tell me she thinks different. Don't think like that, Lola! It'll be worth it, it's worth it, I am and you are too. Together we'll be. Together. Together, hungry and tired, but skinny most of all. *Will it matter then, when we're old, cold and alone?* Oh Lola, my dear, we won't make it that far. Not far enough for it to matter. Lola tilts the cup back, letting the ice cubes slide down to her mouth. She crunches and crushes, grinds them between her teeth. It makes me shiver, the cracking and splitting. I used to do that, when I was young. My grandfather still gives me extra ice in each drink, but now my teeth are too brittle to crunch and crush more than crackers. Oh, what I wouldn't give- No, don't think like that, J! Don't think about what could have been, this is what you want. Fool her, fool you. It's not lies if you believe it to be true. Oh, who're you kidding? You don't care if its lies or truth. Say it anyway, believe it as much as Lola does, as Lola should. Should she? Does she? Doesn't matter. She says she does, that's enough for me. If you say anything for long enough, you'll grow to believe it, I know this well. I sip my coffee, wrapping my hands around the thin paper cup, I leech off its warmth. Lola continues her crunching, I cringe at the sounds. Who taught you to be so self punishing? Probably the same who taught me to be so selfish, so stealing. We talk and talk, 'till there's nothing left to say. Nothing left we're willing to say. Do you doubt that I love you, Lola? I ask. No, I want to ask. But I don't. She purses her lips, looks around. What do you want to say, to ask, my dear? I know something's there. 'C'mon, say it. Spit it out. I'd love to pry, but I don't. I don't, she doesn't. The silences stretches out 'till we find something else to curse, to both hate together. Together. In sickness and in health, forever and ever. You smile, As if you still had a choice. I smile, As if we're both the same.