this time we spend
is only a result of
a lack of better options,
he says.

i try not to take him seriously.

we are laughing
at each other
whiskey in hand
he shoves me
playfully
and i say i don't mind
the aggression

(a lack of better options)

our mouths
pressed on each others
the urgency of our hands
grabbing, reaching, pulling
the warmth of our stomachs
navel to navel

(a lack of better options)

the morning
his head buried in my chest
his hand cradling my hip
his pulse, my pulse
in sync

(a lack of better options)

12/14/2006

Author's Note: who is he kidding?

Posted on 12/14/2006
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