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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