There is that familiar silence, created by tension. Oh, friend, you have been gone for too long. I have watched for you, by the window. It is my singing that brought you back. And you know how we belong together.
I have ended my relationship with Cory. While I know this won’t stick, one day it will. These hands will build a great ship. No cluster of blisters, no aching lungs, can stop a woman in enthusiastic movement. There, in purpose, a church, a religion can be found. On that ship, I will throw in the lover I wish to be rid of.
“It is the same,” I said to him. “My world has not been transformed, by your temporary stay”
He is just a thing to add height to the pile of corpses. A tongueless cynic, lobotomized at birth. A man without a spine to stand. A lover who you can time in seconds, and makes sex an awkward dance of the clueless.
I hungered for a sweet plum, and got a strychnine-laced prune. I say, I foam at the mouth not out of rage, but in sickness.