he will shy away from straightforward answers.
the hand in his pocket is crossed fingers and
you are the string tied round his thumb.
i have seen you, there.

when he whistles, you can hear
his throat rattle mucous that
should have been swallowed with
this morning's first inhale.

but he has saved that cough for
your uncomfortable silence.

when he drives you home,
he rolls the windows halfway down
and drums a song out on the wheel.
he burdens you with a skipping track
and you are torn the whole way there
whether he has given you the good time
that he promised.

he pulls halfway into the drive
and waits for you to leave.
he doesn't kiss you so you push open the door
with an angry foot, muttering a cold 'thanks' he cannot hear.

he doesn't wait for you to get inside,
but skids away abruptly, his eyes already on the road
as your eyes linger on the smoke he's left embracing you.

and when you shower
you are scrubbing your body of him and
burning out your eyes with steam
to blind you of his way.
and when you fuck the first man that you see
just to be rid of him, you
bite the pillow in your way
and do not say his name.

10/08/2009

Posted on 10/09/2009
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