Saturday, May 5, 2012

    Ashes.  Ashes on her black shirt.  Ashes on my bedsheets.  

    Six cigarette butts sit in the ashtray my Father made.  And to think I told her she couldn’t smoke in here.

    What a joke.

    The night seems so distant now.  Much like her eyes did.  And I can’t say I feel too close to anything at the moment.  I can’t say I feel much at all.

    I make my bed in the afternoon today.  My pillow is wet with tears.

She didn’t sleep with her back to me last night.

Facts.  Lining up the facts.

Today I plan to sit in this blue swivel chair from Ikea and sweat.  I may remove my shirt.  I may remove my shorts.  I may sit here naked and bathe in the heat.  Cleanse myself of the shame I’m covered in.

Right.  An excellent Saturday.  

Good thing I woke so late.  Not too many hours to kill now. 

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