Posted: June 27, 2011 in hidden admonishment

Why is this conversation happening?

Is this conversation happening?

If this conversation is happening, I would like for it to stop happening.

Sometimes, you let me stay.

I like your profile when you’re sleeping etched out from the dim light that pours in through your window. That light outside is always on. There’s a crook in your nose where cartilage meets bone, and you have a weak chin outdone by a prominent Adam’s apple. Your hairline is slowly receding with the solid decade wedged between us.

You’re uncomfortable naked.
You’re never naked.
You’ve given up asking me to do the same.
You don’t put sheets on your bed.
You rarely “finish.”
You call it finishing.
You won’t let me watch…or assist.

We never have sex.

Sometimes I think I should ask you what it is that you want
but I assume you’d tell me if it made a difference.
When you’re awake, you’re apologetic as if I have set expectations and timed limitations
and while my stay is fugitive
when I’m with you, I’m on your time in your life.
So long as I’m invited and feel welcomed, I’ll keep coming back.

I’ve waited longer for less.


Comments are closed.