|May 2005 / Volume Six / Issue Three|
|Restless Soul on a Sexless Night
We are not just going to be friends, because that's what people are when they aren't at all.I
tell him this over the coffee that I make, because he doesn't drink coffee, because it burns the
roof of his mouth and his heart. I can remember the last time, well, the time before the actual
last. The last time didn't count. It wasn't special. Breakup sex is empty experimentation, and
I'm just glad I got it out of my slow to learn system.
Special is a coffee brew/is a rare vinyl/is a brass vase that holds the remains of my
chicken. It is not is not at all a grunt here and a sigh for help yes a sigh. Tears pricking the
places I forgot to realize I forgot the tissues. We won't be going grocery shopping together
anymore unless he counts as friends which doesn't count at all after all. I think he's realizing
this now, but no, he's just coming this close to take away my eyelash because it's pale and
out of place on my face. Me too, I'm pale too, the color of the coffee pot, I can't see the inside
of this one.
|RETURN to May 2005|