He has no real interest in me but I still want to wrap my legs around his and ride him until he's covered in our sweat. I still want to be there in the morning when his breath is stark with sleep and he has crust in the corner of his dark droopy eyes. I want to be there to go down on him when he has a bad day and to buy him some sugar when he just needs something sweet
All said and done words and thoughts ending up a black plastic bag amid the scattered pieces of hope
she sits leafing through a picture-book of years and years of words and prose
Soon the door will unhinge (at least it looks that way) (she likes to look at it that way) and she will walk away~ across the skies trailing along behind the invisible quivers. that once provided a muddled promise . . .
anyway, she tries not to go on mumbling fumbling for so long