WEEK 4: Bodey vs Blue Bayou - BODEY WINS 5-2

[Bodey]

The salty ocean air flew inside our window as we drove down A1A
Smoking cigarettes and singing to whatever song you played
I already have your coffee ordered in the cupholder
Iced caramel latte, no whipped cream—you hate whipped cream—
That's why I stick to Folgers
We’d go to the beach and dangle our feet off a sandy lifeguard stand
You’d tell me about your dad and his friend Pete and some other man
How you were just fourteen and had to see the world from a darker stance
I took in the breeze and squeezed your hand, accidentally ashing on my pants
Since that day, I thought that you’d be safe with me
No one else opened me up, but you did it gracefully
Without even trying. Like you were made for me...

The best day of our relationship was actually the worst
I treated you to pancakes, a movie, and Barnes&Noble ‘cause we’re nerds
You’d read me soul-drenched poetry, and I watched your mouth curve every word
I gave you my nana’s rosary, a priceless piece you’ve prob’ly cursed
Happy one-year anniversary? Let’s see how much that’s really worth
After I dropped you off that night, you stopped answering my texts
Your friends had warned me of what happens when you go off all your meds
I jumped out of bed and blew up your phone, got a dial tone instead
No voicemail was set? What the fuck kinda shit—
Suddenly, a Facebook message says: “I wish that I was dead.
“Phone was off but thank God for hot spots, baby, this is the address.”

Turns out, she was never off of her meds.
Motel 6, here she sits on a mutual friend
I stood there, frozen, as if my brain had lagged a bit
Her message to me earlier was a total accident.
Everything about us now had cracks in it
Heart flaking away til there’s only fragments left
Of what it used to be— uncompassionate
Thinking’s a labyrinth of everything hazardous
I get home, kick the bathroom in, just to bash some shit
This fascist bitch almost had me sick, salivatin elastic spit!

As the weeks dragged on, Pompano was like a cesspool of triggered panic attacks
Even the fuckin Target parking lot reminded me of her… I was romantic like that
Whenever I drove anywhere far, I’d refuse any play of the radio
She was a fan of Kendrick Lamar—so was I!—but her juju tainted my stereo
So like twenty one pilots…
…I drove in silence…
I journaled bug-eyed in the night; binge-watching movies got me crazed
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind hits differently these days
Until then, I didn’t know that you could actually sob yourself nauseous
Which is ironic, since this girl used to make herself vomit
As if it made any difference to her waistline before wallowing til dawn
As if she could regurgitate the self-hatred she swallows all day long
People try to tell me that she’s just a sick person who needs a lot of help
But the truth is, she’s a terrible fucking person.
And I hope she never forgives herself