Coffee and Cigarettes
One
Ripped buttons. Lack of clothing. Hard mattress, soft pillows. Hungry lip-biting. Whispers of anything-but-sweet nothings. Fumbling in the dark. The lights turned off for fear of being greeted by an ugly face. Learning the curves of the person in front of you, ignoring the flaws and focusing on the fire. Fingertips on skin. Skin on skin. His skin on her skin. My skin on your skin. Blunt fingernails scratching at delicate backs. Follow the motions, dancing and swaying to the music entering deaf ears.
Sweat, sweat, sweat.
Done. Breathe. Detach from sticky limbs that don’t belong to you. Lights stay off. Awkward fumbling with numb hands and blind eyes. Search for clothes. Locate clothes. Hastily dress, ignore buttons.
“I’ll walk you out – what time’s the bus come?”
Sweat, sweat, sweat.
Done. Breathe. Detach from sticky limbs that don’t belong to you. Lights stay off. Awkward fumbling with numb hands and blind eyes. Search for clothes. Locate clothes. Hastily dress, ignore buttons.
“I’ll walk you out – what time’s the bus come?”