Don't embrace the emo.

I'm sat alone for another night.  
I thought it would please the wife...   
My knife.   
We've stopped sharing DNA.  
It's my favourite image to see him at the kitchen sink  
in a pair of sweats. Six Am.  
My favourite scent is the smell of toast that he put in for breakfast. Six-fifteen.  
I hate my reflection in the morning, I look like Russell B and we sit over tea  
and toast talking about films, books, politics.  
[I hate that topic...]  
I devour the way he looks at me so intensely for about a minute, in dead silence, and then smiles.
I adore the way he moves around me without touching and makes every hair on my body raise.
I relish in the music that we both thoroughly enjoy and the life we could have; but don't. Six Pm.
Have you met the wife?  
My knife.  
She's an old flame, a strange companion, a delight at night.  
We've stopped sharing DNA.  
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published | Edited 29th Jan 2011
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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