For months I watched her. Sometimes

from the edge of her guest bed where we
lay like dirty sheets; puddles of the world.

Id-ridden teeth behind the lips of our kisses
will be all that I’ll remember in twenty goddamn
years. The way I loved her as a woman, and

you loved me as a man.

With every touch and feeling curated, like our
creator was a lover who should learn to swallow
pain: in the deepest pit of the gut, between
the very legs with which I walked away.

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