No by D.

Posted on November 22, 2014 by


“When she drinks herself drowsy at that bar down the street, he will take her home. Her vision blurry enough to mesh my features somewhere along the lines. He we lead her on and turn the lights off, like he has done this before, over and over and the shirt he left on the floor will smell of another’s cologne. But she will let him kiss her. He will not care for her make-up like her older lover didn’t. He’ll seldom look at her without the lights off. In the mornings, he will not be there and the bruises on her insides will slowly melt outwards, evident as the uncertainty in her shaky hands and stutter, but she’ll mistake the shades of blue for the hickies he stained on her skin the night before. He will not be there to dress her with the innocence he stripped off. It is not sex when she’s drunk as her Father the night his wife swallowed her fourth bottle of pills and didn’t wake. It is not sex when she’s vulnerable like that.The lonely are the softest to manipulate. At some point, he wanted to fuck her but there will come greed, and I pray she muffles my name in-between moans, and it feels like drowning to that rotten dog heart of his, because it is that night he will actually want to hold her after.

She’ll dial my number in the morning and I’ll soften the places he made hard. In the shower, I will hear her scrubbing off the places his mis-touched. At night, when you’re in bed alone, kept up to the sound of her mouthing my name, God, It better sound like ‘No’ to you then.”

Posted in: No