Knots
1
It’s morning. Dusty sunlight is peering through the blinds like some sort of immaculate light. The room still smells of cigarettes from the night before. The ashtray is full, surrounded by cans of beer and opened condom wrappers. Clothes are scattered all over the place.
Not again…
I pull the blanket up, as if it makes a difference if I’m naked or not- Once someone sees you naked once, it’s not like it matters how they see you anymore. But it’s a psychological thing, I think- As if it’s not the skin I’m trying to cover, but my own vulnerability.
I look over at the body sleeping next to me, the limp arm draped around my waist, hand over mine. I’d like so much for this to be something real, but it’s not. I know that much before my head even hit’s the pillow, but it’s nice to pretend sometimes.
The clock reads 9:07 am. It’s still early enough that I could sneak out without being noticed. I shrug the arm over and swing my legs over the side of the bed. The rooms spins as the pounding starts up in my head. Bruises line the inside of my thighs, which are throbbing and there are scratches and bite marks down my chest and arms. I spot my clothes and try to slide them on as silently as possible, but it doesn’t work because there’s a rustling behind me.
“Where are you going,” he says hoarsely, reaching over to take the last swig of a beer.
“Just thought I’d get out of your hair before you had to go to work.”
“Well, hold on,” he says, raising one hand as if to call me over. “I’ll take the subway with you, just give me a bit to shower.”
He’s trying to be sincere. He does this every time, yet tomorrow he won’t even notice me. I mutter ’fine’ and sit back down on the bed, pants still only half done up. His arms pull me in, his head resting on my back in a sad, half-effort snuggle. A hand brushes across my back, sliding my hair aside and small kisses are planted along the base of my neck. I turn around and kiss him on the lips, and as one could predict, one kiss leads to two, and before I know it, I’m buck-ass naked again, being slammed against the wall- scratched, slapped, choked, yet it all feels strangely comforting. At least the morning sex makes it feel less like I’m being used, although it’s more likely that’s it’s just one last fuck. This won’t happen again for a while, probably another month. I guess you’ve got to get it while it’s there…
Not again…
I pull the blanket up, as if it makes a difference if I’m naked or not- Once someone sees you naked once, it’s not like it matters how they see you anymore. But it’s a psychological thing, I think- As if it’s not the skin I’m trying to cover, but my own vulnerability.
I look over at the body sleeping next to me, the limp arm draped around my waist, hand over mine. I’d like so much for this to be something real, but it’s not. I know that much before my head even hit’s the pillow, but it’s nice to pretend sometimes.
The clock reads 9:07 am. It’s still early enough that I could sneak out without being noticed. I shrug the arm over and swing my legs over the side of the bed. The rooms spins as the pounding starts up in my head. Bruises line the inside of my thighs, which are throbbing and there are scratches and bite marks down my chest and arms. I spot my clothes and try to slide them on as silently as possible, but it doesn’t work because there’s a rustling behind me.
“Where are you going,” he says hoarsely, reaching over to take the last swig of a beer.
“Just thought I’d get out of your hair before you had to go to work.”
“Well, hold on,” he says, raising one hand as if to call me over. “I’ll take the subway with you, just give me a bit to shower.”
He’s trying to be sincere. He does this every time, yet tomorrow he won’t even notice me. I mutter ’fine’ and sit back down on the bed, pants still only half done up. His arms pull me in, his head resting on my back in a sad, half-effort snuggle. A hand brushes across my back, sliding my hair aside and small kisses are planted along the base of my neck. I turn around and kiss him on the lips, and as one could predict, one kiss leads to two, and before I know it, I’m buck-ass naked again, being slammed against the wall- scratched, slapped, choked, yet it all feels strangely comforting. At least the morning sex makes it feel less like I’m being used, although it’s more likely that’s it’s just one last fuck. This won’t happen again for a while, probably another month. I guess you’ve got to get it while it’s there…