There's a blot between disgust and disdain.
Calculating the moment you knew, and I didn't.
When my dignity got caught all up in it.
I remember feeling, and then not.
But not in the same night.
I remember a swift burn of vanilla and a fuzzy wobble down the hall.
I remember both her arms wrapped around me.
Shakey.
Stable.
Safe.
You.
Did this to me.
Wet porches smell just like limestone...
and a sunrise that never came.
No post-sex wrapup and cigarette.
Pants.
Check.
Keys.
Check.
Leg kicking against wood floors,
neck cramps,
pair of flea bites.
And very dirty socks.
"Hey."
"Hey."
"I'm gonna take off."
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
Every now and then
I find fairly delicate hands in mine.
Looks.
Lingery looks.
Often without any deeper meaning.
Those are the best.
Sometimes.
I could do something uncool
tell you I'd miss you
tell you I want to take you home
and maybe show you that sunrise that never came...