November 26th, Year of Silence

Ivory skin, limited vocabulary, heavy feet. Cory is that, and little else. I have my eyes fixed on a man that was built with extra parts, better thrown away than made use of. He has been in my life for a few years, playing an extra, hungry for a larger role.

I sit here, still feeling a current of desire coursing through me. My heart rate is accelerated by nicotineĀ and lust. I just left his side, and already I want more of him. More of sitting in my car, and talking about nothing. More of my own laughter surprising me, because I am almost sure it was sincere.

Already, he has introduced me to his family. Of them, I will say little. They are a coarse and vulgar lot, that speak through a cloud of cigarette smoke, with the smell of alcohol pushing through every syllable.

I cannot say that I feel a real affection for him. Perhaps, only a tenderness that time can naturally produce. Though he has not been an important part of my life since I have known him, he has been a part of my life, nonetheless.

November 26th, Year of Silence

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