Stood up for the first time in– that was over a year ago, now wasn’t it? Not counting you, of course. And this time you aren’t here to save me, to scoop me up from another man’s frozen doorway, to heal my ego with your proximity. Let your tongue in my mouth tell me how foolish I’ve been.
My pride takes one on the chin, hard, and falls asleep drunk on the couch next to the telephone. You silly girl. Rearrange the furniture and heat this gin on the stove; your man is coming home. You silly girl; two weeks from today. If this little injury still pains you, keep staring at the calendar, color in the days.