cheat heat*

My darling, my love
My love, my darling
Whatever diminutive can replace
The fact that the sound of your name
Is catching hard and ragged in my throat

Now that we’ve fallen to the circumstances
Of this banal betrayal.
What will you think of me
As I am here thinking of you
And thinking of her
Knowing that somewhere you’re
Thinking of her not me?

Maybe you’re not thinking
Though I can’t say it’s not crossed my mind
What time are you going to be home from work?
Have you dropped off the dry cleaning?
I’ve got a yoga class till nine
Pick up toilet paper, if you can.
None of it’s turning me on either.

The rhythm of you
So different from the rhythm of you
Now that you’re thinking of her and not me
I feel it in the tempo of you
A fierceness fresh and different
The way you fuck me from behind
Your left hand moving down my back
Which could be any body’s back
Your right hand holding secret court
With someone else’s cunt
And yet, I take the place for now,
For we’re the ones who signed the lease
On this stupid big place that we can’t afford
With its open arched windows
Its bathroom with its tiles like ocean blue
And view of the beautiful world outside
Where I keep looking for you.

—–

Betsy. That this poem is even seeing the light of day is a testament to my desire to complete lists. Damn thing is on there now. Only way off is out.

I absolutely hate it. Redraft. Re-try. Re-fail. And I can’t believe I dropped the c-bomb. I felt dirty typing.

(*totally awkward – ew, I wanna go back to the bit where we are in love, that’s way less icky)