Sitting side by side on his balcony
He’s rolling a sixth cigarette and my
Lips are wrapped around a bitter glass of red wine.
He just moved, he has no running water, my throat is dry, he licks
The edge of the paper.
I tell him not to worry.
She won’t find out, I will never
Tell a soul. It’s a lie. Stretching my neck,
I am thinking of how he is
Already boring, how his guilt is superseding satisfaction and how
I would prefer to be in the bath. I watch light bruises blossoming on
Skin, erupting on my legs as I time the sunrise, his
Body tense next to my languid frame.
Taking drags, reminding him of things that are better to forget.
We agree, cataclysmic release, a long time coming… Pretending my hair is
Not mussed and his sheets are not wet, rumpled.
A light kiss on his neck as I stand up to leave, feigning smiles with
Mouths full of sleep, making promises to meet under better
Circumstances, in a different city, knowing
There will never be another time, content in duplicity.
3AM Thoughts // AKA “Right on Time, Out of Spite.”