I.
Shiver.
wrapped in linen.
diluted mindpieces
scattered
under dirty sheets
still damp from
last nights promiscuity.

II.
Wince.
the sudden realization
that just the night before
I attempted to obscure him.

III.
Fake.
the replacement:
some intoxicated boy
who knew nothing about the
urges that come from bacchanal
lushes such as myself.
{I taught him the utter existence ..
the complete confidence in casual sex ..}
I'm pretty sure he liked it
though when he got up to leave this morning,
he told me we couldn't do this again..
I like how he trails off
it gives me hope that he'll be back.

IV.
Gaze.
as autumn transmutes to winters chill.
pulling the coverlet tighter around my cool skin
I stand at the window my stare transfixed
upon two sullen figures
wrapped up in eachother
engulfed in the glow
of our dim-lit streetlamp.

V.
transparent.
I find myself liking the cold
as it whispers chilled stories
down my spine.
because now I have something
to complain about.
and when I write
my words won't contain any sentiment
and I can blame the frigidness
on the seasons inevitable weather
and not how my body is unconscious
because you're not there anymore.

09/26/2003

Posted on 09/26/2003
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