don't leave me
We finish fucking, my body slumped against yours in grey sheets. It's unusually hot out for early May. Tomorrow, it'll be cold. I'm not used to this, you tell me, Michigan weather is odd. I stuff my face into your chest, and I tell you the joke we have here - it's bipolar.
Later that night, we sit at a restaurant. You pay, when I protest (because of course I protest), you say No, baby, lemme pay. I relent, it's not like I have the money anyway. I spent all my money on cigarettes and clothes that week.
I don't want to tell you this out loud, but I'm slowly falling in love with you. The gentle caress of your voice, the tired, yet ambitious look you have in your green-blue-ish eyes. I want to ask you so many things. Are you serious about me? Do you feel what I'm feeling? Would you kill a man for me?
On Monday, you fall into my arms, this time you're crying. Normally, I would also be crying, begging you not to go, to move up here, to leave everyone else behind. We can figure out how it'll work. We don't need to pay rent. You can blow the weed smoke in my face, grab my face, lead my lips towards your dick. Fuck me. Call me baby again. And then we go out to eat, I'll put on a slinky dress that reveals a bit too much. I'll play Clairo in my car.
I'm not crying, though. I tell you I love you, you're the only one for me. It'll work out, eventually.
I tell my therapist nothing happened with you. I'm lying, of course. I want to tell her how you fucked me, how your fingers felt electric against my skin. How, for the first time in a long while, you made me cum. I want to ask her why I feel so scared of letting you in. I don't. I never will
The session ends, and I drive home. You're not there when I get back, and, oddly enough, tears start swelling up in my eyes. I break down crying once I reach my bedroom, body crumpled against my grey sheets.