Those days

On days when I am alone, sitting on the floor with a glass of cheap sweet red wine in hand,
I imagine you standing somewhere in the room
about to come to me and plant soft kisses on my cheeks
then on my lips
and the taste and smell of beer you were drinking
melts with the chocolate and mint and smoke we shared just moments ago.

On days when I am alone lying in my bed unable to get any wink of sleep,
I hear your quiet snores
I see the calm breaths you make
I feel your velvet skin brushing against mine.

On days when there is nothing left to do,
I recede into the parallel universe
where you and I are creating heaven between our bodies
beating to the rhythmic pulse of each thrust you make declaring the power I gave you to own me and weigh me down with the passion and desire cascading down our sweaty bodies and exhaling out our grunts and moans.

On these days, I curse you for making me want and need you.
I curse you for teasing me into believing that this silent, mutual game we are playing can turn into the greatest untold romance that will be shared and passed down.

On these days, I want to be rid
of every single day
of every fucking night
of every goddamn memory.

I curse you for crossing my path.
I curse you for looking at me.
I curse you for making me need you.
Fuck you.
I love you.


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