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out at the stars. Where
is Trey? I want to tell
him I’m sorry.
Want to have “make
up sex.” Want to make
everything okay again.
Stable again. More stable.
Minus baby makes two.
I Am Still by the Window
When he stumbles in. Wasted.
Like me. We don’t bother with
words, instead collapse into bed,
shedding clothes as we go.
Finally, sweaty and shaking,
I whisper, “I’m sorry. Oh, God.
I don’t want to be without you.”
The same hands that only hours
ago hurt me now caress me. I’m
sorry too. He lays his fingers into
finger-shaped bruises. Perfect fits.
I can’t believe I did this to you.
Why do I hurt you when I love
you so much? Am I crazy?
We both know why, but we
don’t dare admit it. What would
we be if we did? “We’re both
crazy. I don’t care, as long
as you’re with me. Kiss me.
Make love to me, hard. Don’t
t
